In the Web of the Spider (Season 5, Episode 4)
by bionic4ever
Summary: (Season 5, Episode 4) : Anna's evil has spread to torture EVERYONE - and especially Jaime and Steve! Can Rudy, Mark Conrad and the others help her to recover. when they are being harmed as well
1. Chapter 1

**In the Web of the Spider** - Season 5, Episode 4

Chapter One

''So where do we stand?'' Steve asked, seated at the desk at National Medical Center that _had been_ Rudy's...then Oscar's...then his. ''How soon before I can get out of pencil-pushing duty?''

''You've done a whole lot more than push pencils, my friend,'' Mark Conrad told him.

''And I'd prefer not to do it for any longer than necessary...but I'll keep it up until they're ready. So...when _will_ they be ready?''

''You're sounding more like Oscar every day.''

''Watch it, Doc; world's not ready for another Oscar Goldman.''

''Oscar should be able to return to at least some of his own...ahem...pencil pushing within the next few days. His biggest struggle will be having to face you and Jaime again.''

Steve shook his head. ''We know it wasn't his fault. Those weren't really _Oscar's_ hands that tried to kidnap Becca.''

''I know that; he knows it too. Still, it could be rough sailing until the old 'sailing buddies' find their sea legs again.''

''Hey! Talkin' to an Air Force man here, Doc!'' Steve chuckled...then grew serious. ''What about the others?''

''Hansen's a hard one to read,'' Mark explained. ''That's how he got to where he is in the NSB, I suppose - but it makes him a tough nut to crack. He steadfastly denies that mind control is even possible and in order for him to become _functional_ again, he has to accept that it is possible -''

''Because it happened to him.''

''Exactly. On the farthest end of the spectrum,'' Mark continued, ''is Russ. He can't even begin to wrap his mind around what happened - that Anna's device nearly turned him into Jaime's killer.''

''Does he remember it?'' Steve asked.

''None of them have true memories of what happened - except possibly Michael - and in Russ' case especially, it's best that he never does _truly_ remember.''

''I agree. And what about Michael?''

''That depends on you...and on Jaime,'' Mark said softly. ''Have you told her yet, that Michael may have been a victim too?''

''No,'' Steve admitted. ''I just...don't even know how to begin that conversation. And I'm not sure we should. At least...not yet. Jaime's doing so well; even better than we'd hoped. I don't want her to feel for one second that I don't believe she was attacked - because of course, she _was_. She was brutalized. Talk about a tough concept for someone to wrap their head around...''

''Doctor Corinth _and_ Michael have both requested that he be allowed to resume treating and assessing Jaime, with an eye toward whether she'll need a second regeneration soon or if they might wait until further down the road - if ever.''

Steve nodded. ''Yeah; even Jaime knows he'll be coming back to see her again soon. I think...well, I'm pretty sure...she's okay with that. She doesn't know the whole situation; she has no idea that he bartered saving her life for his freedom...but she does know he's the one responsible for restoring her to normal life again.'' Steve paused for a moment, and Mark waited, knowing his patient and friend had something even more important to say once he'd found the right words. ''Can I ask you a question, Doc?''

''Of course.''

''Is Michael - could he really be - _innocent_? I mean, I understand about Russ' hands or Oscar's hands...or Rudy's...being used to do someone else's evil. But...what Michael did...especially what he did to Jaime...'' Steve swallowed hard as his throat threatened to close with emotion. ''I guess what I'm asking is, how could a woman - even one from a family like the Kingsleys - order that done? Or did that come from Michael's mind?''

''Steve, it's quite possible that Michael was given a broad-spectrum order to destroy you and Jaime, to cause you as much pain as possible in any way that might inflict the most damage. So if you're asking whether I think it's safe to allow Michael to assess Jaime alone -'' Mark eyed him squarely and Steve nodded. That was exactly what he was asking. ''In terms of Jaime's physical safety, yes. In terms of her emotional well-being, I can't recommend it.''

''Thanks, Doc.''

Mark smiled encouragingly at him. ''Let's go and see how Jaime's faring with Doctor Corinth.'' They made their way down the hall to the ICU where Jaime was so engrossed in the book on her lap that she didn't notice her husband and Mark in the doorway.

It was a small child's book, with bright, colorful photos of nature from around the world. Doctor Corinth was testing to see how verbal she might be, and if she'd have trouble (aphasia) in getting the words in her mind to come out of her mouth. (He'd previously explained it to Steve as if Jaime might be looking at a 'dog' and either be unable to say the word - even if she knew exactly what the picture showed - or she might say 'paperclip' or 'boat' instead.)

''That's a Cypress Tree,'' Jaime said, beaming. ''I love those!''

Corinth had been hoping to hear her say the word 'tree' but Jaime's full sentences were music to his - and everyone's - ears. He'd been as reluctant as anyone to see Michael out of prison and back at National Medical, but it seemed the man could truly work medical miracles.

''Hey!'' his impatient patient chided. ''You...gonna turn the page?'' Steve couldn't suppress his chuckle - and Jaime finally looked up and beamed at him. ''Guess what?'' she crowed excitedly. ''They're gonna...um...can you tell him?'' she asked Corinth.

''Today's the day we trade the big, bulky -''

''Yucky!'' Jaime interjected.

''And yucky...bandages for a lighter version. And - Jaime has requested a look in the mirror.''

* * *

It was Mark's turn to work with Jaime (in as much as she was able to do so), talking lightly about whatever came into her mind. Steve stepped over into the nursery cubicle next door and spent some quality time rocking their daughter...and thinking. When he'd arrested Anja/Anna, he'd sent her to be locked in The Hole - minus the shackles, as she could be cuffed when the need presented itself. Steve had ordered her held there for 72 hours without interrogation or even questioning from _anyone_. The guards were not even to speak when bringing her meal trays. That would leave her totally off-balance when he made his first appearance in her cell the next morning...

- - - - -


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Jaime had already been able to sit up with the bed raised behind her (to eat small, light meals) for a couple of days without too much vertigo, but when Doctor Corinth began removing Jaime's bandages and then handed her a mirror, Steve's arm around her waist was for a very different kind of support.

''Ugly!'' Jaime proclaimed.

Steve kissed her softly on the cheek. ''Most assuredly _not_ ugly,'' he told her.

''Ugly...''

''Sweetheart, you can part your hair on the other side. Or there are scarves..bone grafts...''

''No...different kind of...ugly.'' (Why wasn't he _getting_ it?)

''Jaime, maybe if you try a different word,'' Corinth suggested.

Jaime thought for a moment. ''Mean. So..._mean_...to do this to someone!''

''And I promise you I'm going to deal with that,'' Steve said, kissing her again. He looked toward the cubicle doorway, where Mark stood waiting with Michael. ''Sweetheart, would it be alright if Michael takes a look at you before the new bandage goes on?''

''Okay. And you...you'll deal with Russ?''

''First thing tomorrow, right after I have breakfast with my two favorite ladies, I'll be heading out for awhile to start taking care of the person who did this to you.''

''_Russ_!'' Jaime said emphatically. ''Russ...shot me!''

Steve exchanged a quick, worried glance with Jaime's doctors. Was it his imagination...or was she backsliding? Michael took Corinth's spot next to the bed and Jaime went through Michael's hand-eye-coordination and reflex tests in a cheerful frame of mind, her outburst seemingly forgotten. Both surgeons examined her head wound and then Corinth wrapped a lighter, more comfortable swath of gauze to cover it.

To Steve's surprise, it was Michael who nodded him toward the hallway. He leaned in to give his wife one more kiss and a loving, reassuring smile. ''I'll be back in a little while,'' he told her, ''and we can sing Becca a lullaby.''

''Down to your office?'' Steve asked Michael, once they'd turned the corner.

Michael shook his head. ''Yours. I have something for you.''

_Well, that could be anything from a scalpel in my back to poison in my coffee_, Steve thought sarcastically...but he led the way, eager to hear Michael's opinion on Jaime's progress.

''Michael, what's happening to her?'' he asked without preamble as they stepped into Rudy/Oscar/Steve's office.

''I know you're worried - and I'll answer any questions you have about Jaime's condition of course - but let's do _this_ first,'' Michael requested. ''You'll be wanting to close the door.'' Upon seeing Steve's raised eyebrow, he countered ''I realize you don't trust me. At this point, you have no reason to do so, but if you'll hear me out -''

''What is it you want, Michael?'' Steve asked. ''Your freedom? You've already got that. My gratitude for saving Jaime's life? Also already given...repeatedly. Now, on the other hand if it's _Jaime_ you've decided you want, after all -''

Michael closed the office door himself. ''What I want,'' he said very quietly, ''is _your_ freedom, Steve.''

''Excuse me?''

''I'm out of prison because you put your wife's life and happiness in front of your own need for revenge,'' Michael explained. ''And I'm out of that locked unit upstairs because of your generosity - and again, because you put Jaime's needs ahead of your own. Rudy came up to see me a few hours ago and he told me the only reason Oscar, Russ, Jack and I are alive is because you smashed that machine...and I don't doubt it. I also know you'll be questioning 'Anna' tomorrow -''

''Or trying to, anyhow,'' Steve admitted.

''Right. That's one thing I can actually help you with.''

''So you do know her, after all?''

''No. But I know you have certain...uh...tactics you'd normally use, in interrogating recalcitrant prisoners.''

''Possibly,'' Steve acknowledged. (What the _hell_ was he getting at?)

''Steve, forgive me, but I know there are felony charges over your head. Multiple, serious felony charges.''

''How did you -?''

''Never mind that part. When Oscar took over here for Rudy - temporarily - he brought that sealed envelope with him. I assume you can open Rudy's safe...?''

''Well, sure...but what good does that do?'' (Steve guessed Michael didn't know the sealed envelope was also sealed - in a small, locked section of the inside lid.)

Michael nodded toward the safe, then reached into his lab coat...and offered Steve a key. ''It's from Oscar,'' he said simply.

''You _pickpocket-ed_ Oscar?'' (Now Steve was sure the young surgeon had lost his mind completely.)

''Of course not. I spoke with Oscar, explaining how it wasn't right for you to go into that interrogation tomorrow with - essentially - your hands tied behind your back. And it isn't fair that you should have to go in there and risk your freedom to get justice against that..._woman_. So I asked Oscar for the key; if my record is clear, then yours _certainly_ should be.''

''Michael, I -''

''If you'd like, you can check with Oscar first, to be certain I got this from him legitimately; I understand.'' He extended his hand, again offering the key...and this time, Steve accepted it.

''Thank you...I'm really grateful.''

Michael smiled at his former rival. ''So tonight, that envelope gets burned and tossed in the lake out back. Then tomorrow, you'll go into that room and get justice for all of us - especially for Jaime.''


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

''You can discharge me and keep an intern on my tail 24/7,'' Rudy groused, ''or I'll even wander the halls in my bathrobe and paper slippers - but one way or another, I'm getting out of this bed and taking care of my facility...and of my _people_...again! Starting now!''

''Your color is poor,'' his cardiologist told him.

''I'm not blue.'' Rudy tossed off the blanket and defiantly swung his legs over the side of the bed. ''Look, I'll make you a deal.''

''I didn't realize your health was up for negotiation.''

''It isn't. And neither is the welfare of this hospital,'' Rudy shot back. ''I can take care of both just fine, thank you.''

Rudy's doctor shook his head. ''Which is exactly why you're a cardiac patient now. I can sedate you and take you back to Clayton Memorial, you know.''

''If you do that, who's left here?'' Rudy asked, reaching for his lab coat. ''Oscar needs to go back to his office - his _own_ office - when he's released, and tomorrow morning Steve Austin is scheduled to start interrogating Anna Kingsley. Who does that leave to run this facility? Michael Marchetti? He's barely off of the locked ward himself and still has a critically ill patient to treat!''

''I'll have one too, if my extraordinarily _obstinate_ patient doesn't listen to his cardiologist...''

''Look,'' Rudy sighed, ''I'll pay a visit to Oscar and the others upstairs, I'll look in on Jaime and Becca - and then I'll come straight back here, don these oh-so-flattering pajamas and crawl back into this bed -''

''No you won't. You'll find one reason or another to poke your head into the lab, then you'll need to find something in your office and before we know it, you're flat on your back hooked up to those monitors again.''

''We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it,'' Rudy said firmly.

* * *

Jaime was sitting up in her bed, propped by pillows and encircled by Steve's embrace as Becca lay curled between them in the crook of her mother's arm. Steve held the baby's bottle for her and Jaime wished she could find the words to voice everything she was feeling inside. ''Daddy's Girl...'' she said softly.

''_Our_ girl,'' Steve corrected, kissing her.

_Do they know_, Jaime wondered to herself, _that there's so much more happening in my head than I can tell them about?_

Her verbal skills, although growing by leaps and bounds each day, were still quite limited but Jaime's cognitive skills were clear and sharp. She absorbed and retained details like a sponge but more than that (and the part she was finding especially hard to voice or explain)...she was _remembering_ things that everyone had assumed were lost to her forever.

It had started in her dreams, with tiny flashes of what looked like a James Bond movie but (in 'close up') turned out to be her own OSI training, almost five years earlier. Each tiny flash of memory seemed to light the way for another half dozen to take its place. As far as she could tell (without being able to ask), everything seemed to be there...Steve...her 'death'...her relationship with Michael (during that first bout of amnesia)...her engagement to Chris and the car accident he'd staged that had so nearly killed her...then the time she'd spent finally growing close to Steve again during her recovery (and over innumerable games of Monopoly). Full circle.

Now if she could just find a way to let everyone know...

* * *

Steve had thought long and hard about the approach he intended to take with Anna Kingsley. He'd have more than the usual amount of leeway, since Oscar and Hansen were both unavailable to 'pull him off' - and yet he'd have to tread very carefully since he couldn't exactly jack a woman up against the wall and shake a confession out of her. He'd originally planned to question her right there at NSB Headquarters, in that tiny little concrete slab of a cell that was designed to feel like the walls were closing in...but he thought that with a woman like Anna/Anja, another tactic might be far more effective. While Jaime was submitting to the evening's round of tests, Steve slipped down to 'his' office to call in some further instructions, to be followed first thing in the morning.

He wanted Anna awakened early and without explanation or comment of any sort from her guards (who'd already been told they were _not_to speak to her at any time), she was to be shackled and transported _silently_ to the interrogation room at OSI-Los Angeles. Once there, Steve wanted his quarry unshackled, un-cuffed and left inside - with not so much as a glance in her direction. ''Not one word, no eye contact; nothing,'' he reiterated.

_He had a plan_.

* * *

With no windows in the little tomb-like cell (and no natural light in the basement hallway), Anja had no way to judge for certain how much time had passed since Austin had arrested her. It didn't really concern her anyhow. He was coming to her soon; she could _sense_him.

_There was more than one way to trap a man..._

- - - - -


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Steve looked at his quarry through the interrogation room glass. She reminded him of a petulant child who was unable to get her own way...combined with a starving lioness anticipating her next kill. Anja sat at the table, her chin in her hand as though deep in thought and then, seemingly to sense Steve's presence (or at least that she was being watched), she got up and moved with a cat-like slink into the corner chair, tucking her feet beneath her, leaning confidently against the wall and smiling with self-satisfaction.

''Wow,'' the guard chuckled. ''You sure you're ready for this one, Colonel?''

''She give you any trouble?'' Steve asked.

''Nope. Seemed to drive her crazy that no one would even look at her though.''

''Really? Good.'' Steve peered through the glass one more time. In a lot of ways, this woman was the 'anti-Jaime'. While Jaime sparkled with positivity and had the air of one who had absolutely no idea how beautiful she really was, Anja was gorgeous...and not afraid to use it at every opportunity. (_Light energy versus dark energy, personified_, Steve thought to himself.) Her deep-copper colored hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail and the jumpsuit she'd been given to wear hung off of her slender frame in a way that made her look vulnerable - but Steve knew she was as far from vulnerable as a woman could get. (_As harmless as a piranha_, he thought.) She didn't appear to have aged at all in the five years since Steve had met her during a mission to the Soviet Union.

It had been the long-term ('please distract me') mission he'd begged Oscar for, after losing Jaime to amnesia (and to Michael). Resolved not to let the past become a distraction to him now, Steve flashed the guard a confident smile then nodded for the door to be opened. Anja beamed when she saw him stride in...and Steve could feel her dark eyes boring into him as he walked past her without acknowledgment or even a glance. He sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room, opened the newspaper he'd carried tucked inside his jacket and began to read.

''Vanilla get a little too boring for you, after all?'' Anja purred. Steve ignored her, feigning fascination with something buried deep in the pages of his paper. He heard her shift impatiently...and then she rose to her feet. He turned the page without looking up but allowed her to approach, just to see what she would do. (He'd been around enough to know that for a woman like this one, inattention was the greatest of insults.)

Anja's hands gripped the arm of his chair as she crouched beside him. Steve turned the page and kept reading. Her breath was hot and fierce on his neck as she leaned in closer to whisper in his ear. ''I knew you couldn't resist coming back to me.'' With as much calm as he could muster, Steve folded the newspaper, set it on the table and wrapped his arms around Anja's waist to carry her across the room and deposit her firmly (but gently) in her chair. ''Ooh...you punish me now?'' she taunted. ''Shall I face the corner?''

Steve perched on the edge of the table (giving himself a height advantage), crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows expectantly. His quarry moistened her lips with her tongue snake-like and darting. Steve found her neither alluring nor attractive. She was _dangerous_...and he wasn't falling for it. He waited silently. Once again, Anja rose to her feet and this time she tried to drape herself across his lap - but Steve was having _none_ of it. Any other interrogator would've had her shackled from the get-go, but he was allowing her to pull out all of her little tricks so she could see how very much he was NOT impressed. As soon as her body made contact with his, he picked her up and placed her even more firmly back into her own chair.

''I know what you like...'' she told him in a sultry voice.

''You know nothing of the sort!'' he snapped - then cursed himself inwardly for letting her get a verbal rise out of him.

''You remember,'' Anja insisted. ''Wanna know how I am sure of that? You're trying too hard to pretend you do not.''

''Like I told you the other day, you have to be very special to be retained in my memory banks,'' Steve reminded her. ''Are you in _anyone's _memory banks, Anna?''

''_**Anja**_,'' she corrected.

''Your name is Anna. Anna Kingsley. And you must be pretty dead inside to let your own family believe you'd killed yourself.''

''I have no family!''

''Ah...but you did. Your parents died believing their only daughter had gone off a cliff. And your brothers...did you intend all along for them to die or were they just 'casualties of war'?'' Steve asked.

Anja glared at him. ''My brothers knew where I was. My parents...I don't care!''

''Really? And they never sought you out? How sad. Especially when you tried for so many years to be their shining star, to be the one they noticed...the one they cared about.''

''Shut up!''

''But you had to share the spotlight with your brothers - _twin_ brothers - in a family where girls had no value. No importance.''

''I said _shut up_!''

''No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't get them to notice...or to care. Isn't that right, Anna? So you thought if you could make the whole world sit up and take notice then maybe your own family might love you. Or at least care that you existed.'' Steve noted with satisfaction that although her eyes remained steel-cold, Anja's chin had begun to quiver slightly. He was getting to her. ''All your life, you've been the little kid in the back row,'' he persisted, ''waving your arms and crying _look at me, look at me!_ - and no one is looking anymore...if they ever were.''

''Was good enough for you, wasn't I?'' she pouted.

''I know you don't want me to answer that,'' Steve scoffed. ''Besides, you're the one who needs to start coming up with answers - and a whole lot of 'em - pretty darn quickly.''

''I have the only answer you'll ever need, right here,'' she said in a voice that bordered on obscene.

''Let me know when you're ready to face the inevitable,'' Steve told her, returning to his chair and picking up the newspaper. Anja glided after him like honey melting downhill on a hot August day but as soon as she reached for him, Steve pulled the handcuffs from his belt and clicked one around her wrist then returned her to her chair and secured her to it. His back was already turned as he headed across the room when she fired one more (verbal) missile.

''Would you like to hear about your son?''

Steve flinched, glad she couldn't see his face. ''You're lying,'' he insisted.

''And...you are sure about that?''

- - - - -


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Steve knew he couldn't let Anja see how badly she'd rattled him. ''That is one pathetic way to try and change the subject,'' he scoffed.

''Is it?'' Anja laughed. ''Or is it the truth? He's four now, you know - our son. Looks just like his Daddy.''

Steve wanted to reach over and slap her but he refused to give her the validation of a response. ''Lady, unless you plan to spend the rest of your days in that Hole of a cell without even seeing the sunlight through bars on a window, I suggest you take some time to think about - oh, I don't know - cooperating.'' He headed for the door and entered his code into the keypad.

''I named him Steven Junior!'' Anja called after him.

* * *

Steve had the receptionist at National page Mark to his office and then sat down to wait, drumming his fingers anxiously and trying to somehow prepare himself for whatever the rest of the day might throw at him. The therapist took one look at Steve's face and closed the office door.

''I'm guessing it didn't go well?'' Mark ventured.

''Understatement of the decade, Doc. I think I need your help. Is there...'' Steve paused, trying to find the right words before finally just blurting it out. ''Is there any way to tell whether or not a woman has ever given birth?''

''Excuse me?''

''I need to know...'' he gulped again. It sounded awful, no matter how he put it. ''I need to find out - for sure - if Anna Kingsley has ever had a baby.''

''I think you'd better tell me the whole story,'' Mark said quietly. He listened in horrified silence as Steve detailed the overseas mission, his contact with Anja...and the claim she was making now. ''Is it possible?'' he asked when Steve was finished. ''Were you drunk...drugged? Could she be telling the truth?''

''No! I mean...I don't think so. I...I'm not sure,'' Steve admitted. There were parts of that early mission (the one that would help him get over Jaime) that he had never spoken of - and he still couldn't find the words. So he stalled instead. ''If she'd already invented that device of hers...who knows? So what do I do now? Is there some way to tell?''

''Well, yes - with the appropriate physical exam.''

''Then I need to set one up. Today. Now,'' Steve insisted. ''If she's never had a child then I have nothing to worry about.''

''But if she has...?''

''Then I guess I'll go from there,'' Steve said miserably. ''I'm not sure who to take with me. I don't think Rudy's up to it...and I don't want to ask him to keep it from Jaime...''

''You're not going to tell her?'' Mark asked.

''Jaime's in no condition to hear about this right now. And I'm not so sure there's even anything to tell. If there is a child then of course I'll tell her, but for now...''

''You're probably right.''

''Would you be able to do the exam, Doc?'' Steve requested.

''Am I capable? Yes. But I really think you'd be better off with someone else. What about Doctor Hammond?''

''Jaime's obstetrician?'' Steve shook his head. ''Too risky. I can't take Rudy either - and I don't want to pull a doctor out of the Yellow Pages...''

''What about Michael?'' Mark suggested.

''Have you lost your mind?''

''He might be the perfect choice. He's OSI, he and Jaime don't exactly sit and converse together - so he won't accidentally 'spill' anything to her - and he's right here in the facility. Corinth would still be here if Jaime needs anything, and so would I.''

''Marchetti would have a field day, knowing the mess I'm in. Why give him more ammo?'' Steve pondered.

''Ammo is for enemies - and if Anna Kingsley did what it appears that she did, Michael isn't the enemy. Maybe he never was...and I think he's an ideal choice for this 'mission' of yours.''

''Maybe you're right,'' Steve allowed. ''But I can't let go of what he did to Jaime -''

''No one expects you to. But use that emotion to fuel your interrogation of Anna. Or...are you planning to hand her over to someone else now?''

''Not a chance, Doc. If she really is responsible for everything that's happened - and especially for my wife lying in an ICU bed trying to fight her way back to a normal life - then I'm going to see to it that she faces justice. Full justice. No matter what.''

* * *

Steve strode back into the interrogation room and unhooked Anja from her chair. ''We're going for a walk,'' he announced.

Anja licked her lips. ''I'll go anywhere with you. But you already know that...don't you?'' She leered at him in an over-exaggerated gesture of seductiveness as Steve wrapped a belly chain around her waist and secured her hands. ''Ooh...I like it when you play rough.''

Steve pulled her down the hall toward the infirmary with just a little more force than was necessary then lifted her onto the exam table before she could argue. Once Anja was secured there, he nodded to the two guards in the hallway to come and stand at the head of the table, where they could witness that nothing untoward was going on (without being able to see the actual exam). Steve himself then stepped into the hallway, closed the exam room door and slumped into a chair, his emotions going haywire and his nerves completely shot.

A son? A four year old son whom he'd never met? He couldn't even begin to wrap his mind around the possibility. It was merely a cruel mind game played by a skilled snake - or a spider weaving another web of lies that Steve refused to let himself become trapped in. Had he truly lost his mind - and his ethics - in the Soviet Union? There were things that had happened over there that he'd never discussed with anyone...but could that have led to...a son? What was he going to tell Jaime?

It seemed like several eternities to the anguished man waiting in the hallway but was really only a few minutes before Michael opened the door. ''We're finished here,'' he announced.

- - - - -


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

''Steve's working!'' Jaime said brightly when she saw Rudy and Corinth in the cubicle doorway.

''How do you feel, Honey?'' Rudy asked, kissing her cheek.

''I wanna work too!'' Jaime told him with the slightest of pouts. ''Will I be able to..._ever_?''

''Let's see if we can't get you at least a little closer to that goal,'' Rudy suggested. ''How do you feel about getting out of bed?''

''Oh! Yes, please!'' Jaime eagerly tossed her blankets aside and bounced directly to her feet - where she wavered alarmingly and both doctors working together managed to catch her just before she hit the floor. ''Damn...it...'' she whispered, fighting back angry tears.

''Now let's try _easing_ you into it so that doesn't happen,'' Corinth suggested gently. He raised the head of Jaime's bed so she could sit upright with full support. ''Just let your body and your head catch up to each other. That's it. Now dangle your legs from the side of the bed, so you're supporting your own weight, still sitting there. Very good.''

''Now take our arms and stand up,'' Rudy instructed. ''_Slowly_.''

''I'm doing it!'' Jaime crowed. She moved to take a step forward - and the doctors held her firmly in place.

''Don't rush,'' Rudy told her. ''Get used to just holding yourself upright first. It's been a long time.''

''Too long! Feels _good_!''

''Now let's try a step forward with your left foot. Just one. Good. Now bring your right foot up to meet it...''

Jaime dutifully followed every instruction and positively glowed with her new accomplishment. Sure, she was being supported on either side...but she was _walking_!

* * *

Steve sat so silently in the corner of the interrogation room that after the guards had re-secured her to her chair, it took Anja several minutes to even realize he was there. ''Well, hello there, Lover,'' she cooed when she finally spotted him. Steve glared at her with silent, white-hot anger. ''Shame you couldn't have stayed in there for all of the..._fun_,'' she chuckled. ''That doctor fellow was handsome enough, but he just wasn't _**you**_ and -''

''_**Knock. It. Off!**_'' Steve thundered, crashing his fist straight through the little conference table.

''What's wrong, Lover?''

''Just cut the _**crap**_, lady! And I use that term very, very loosely - since it certainly shows more respect than you deserve!''

''Aw...you're upset with me because it took me four years to tell you about our son?''

''_**There is NO son!**_'' Steve slammed one of the table legs into the wall and let the splinters fly. ''There's no son because you've never had a child! EVER!''

''Now, Lover, why would I -''

''SAVE IT! Just...save it,'' Steve growled. ''I'm not your 'Lover'. I'm not your friend. Matter of fact, I couldn't care less if you dried up and fell off the planet; the world would be better and safer for it! But what you don't seem to realize is that right now I'm the person with my finger on the button that says either 'work with her' or 'throw the book at her' - and you seem hellbent on making me wing the book and every single charge we can come up with straight on top of your head. Are you suicidal...or just plain stupid?''

''Why are you turning on me like this?'' Anja asked in the voice of a spoiled child.

''Turning on you? I'm all that's keeping you from disappearing into the bowels of the NSB, never to surface again. Why? I don't know why! But no one is waiting outside this door to ride in on a white horse and rescue you, Anna. _Nobody._ Did you know you don't even have a _country_ to call your own? We contacted the Soviets to see if they'd like to include you in the next round of prisoner exchange - and they practically hung up on us! They don't want you, Anna! And the Americans? You renounced your citizenship here more than a decade ago; that means you have nowhere to go. Nobody to turn to - and nowhere to hide. You're all alone. How does _that_ make you feel? Huh? I can't quite hear you!''

''Stop it...'' his quarry said, almost inaudibly.

It was the first sign of genuine emotion that Steve had seen from her - and it meant he was on the right track. He kicked angrily at the pile of wood that used to be the table, clearing a path for himself and sending the scraps scattering in every direction. Anja blinked...and flinched. Steve yanked a chair across the room and seated himself just out of reach of her shackled hands, their knees touching as he leaned in close.

''Tell me how it started. Where did the idea come from, for this _machine_ of yours?''

''I...don't know what you're talking about,'' she insisted, her voice quivering.

Steve kept his own voice soft and level, even when the words were menacing. ''The hell you don't. You'll never be free again; you know that. But you can still do some good in this world - and isn't that all you've ever wanted? To do good...to be noticed? To have somebody _care_ that you exist?''

''Please...''

''Maybe it was your brothers' idea - and you stole it from them. Is that it?'' Steve pressed.

''My brothers didn't have the brains God gives to turnips.''

''Then TELL ME!''

''No.'' Anja was trembling slightly, but she had also just spotted an opening...and she went for it. ''First you kiss me...then I'll tell you.''

Steve didn't know it, but a new arrival in the hallway had just turned on the speaker and was watching through the glass, hanging on every word...


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

''_**NO**__!_''

Mark ducked just in time. Jaime had enjoyed an extraordinary, triumphant morning; the afternoon was...not starting out as well.

''Don't want a burger!'' she groused. _Loudly_.

''The kitchen could make something else for you,'' Mark suggested with a bemused half-smile. He made no move to clean the food from the floor, just happy Jaime's bionic strength had not been returned yet and making note that her normal, human strength was indeed improving - since her lunch tray had barely missed his head.

''Not hungry!'' she pouted. ''Tired of burgers! An' powdered eggs! An' doctors - and hospitals! I'm _tired_!''

''It's good to hear you expressing yourself so well,'' Mark told her patiently.

''Go 'way!''

''Not a chance.''

''Wanna sleep!'' Jaime insisted, sounding more like a petulant child than Mark thought he'd ever heard from her before.

He knew, of course, that regression and mood swings were both very common - and _normal_ - with a severe head injury...and Jaime had spent an inordinate amount of time in hospitals long before being shot. While many of her current emotions were to be expected, her situation was anything but typical. Mark would play it by ear, one step at a time.

''You had a great night's sleep,'' he told her sensibly, ''and a nap just before lunch. How about if we talk now instead?''

''Don't want to!''

''You must feel incredibly frustrated,'' Mark noted.

Jaime glared at him. ''You have NO idea,'' she pouted.

''And - I'm guessing - bored.''

''_No kidding_!''

''Good; let's see what we can do about that.''

* * *

Russ stared blankly out of the tiny window on the wall, wishing he could be anywhere - and anyone - other than where (and who) he was. The 'fight' had long since drained out of him; he didn't argue with them anymore. Had he _really_ done what the doctors were telling him he'd done...when he could still barely stomach donning his weapon in the mornings to head off to work? Of course, he hadn't! It was nowhere in his memory bank, impossible for him to even picture - so they were lying to him, plain and simple. The question was..._why_?

* * *

''_First you kiss me...then I'll tell you_,'' Anja cooed.

There it was; an offer on the table. It seemed simple enough. They were already so close that their knees were intertwined. Steve leaned in, mere inches from her face and gazed directly into her eyes.

''Not. On. Your. Life,'' he whispered. He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and shook his head. ''Speaking of your life - do you have any interest in saving it?''

''Why should I? Like you said, I'll never be free again.''

''When was the last time you really felt free, Anna?'' Steve probed. ''When you hid in the Soviet Union because your ideas were too radical - and too dangerous - for anyone to consider here? Was that freedom? Or when you pushed so hard to graduate college before your _older_ brothers had even started, in the hope that your family might actually notice you; did you feel free then?''

''Don't...''

''Okay,'' Steve said, shrugging. ''If that's what you want. I'll save the effort for someone who wants - and deserves - my help. For now, you're stuck with me, but I have a paper to read and I guess you have your own misery to wallow in. Enjoy.'' He waded his way through the pieces of table, set his chair down on the other side of the little room (with a 'thud' for emphasis), then picked up his newspaper from the floor and began to 'read'. In actuality, he was still watching Anja's every move.

Anja shifted in her seat, pulled slightly at her shackles...and sighed. Steve's words had cut her deeply but she was nowhere near ready to concede. Her entire life had taught her that if someone hurts you, you _hurt them back_!

''I heard what happened to your wife,'' she said in a soft voice.

''Did you now?'' Steve replied absently, refusing to let her 'get his goat' and not glancing up from his paper.

''Quite a shame...'' Anja's soft voice turned venomous... ''that she didn't _die_!''

Steve bristled. This was almost - but not quite - a confession. Knowledge? Yes. Guilt? Of course...but she hadn't quite admitted it; not yet. ''You set her up pretty well, didn't you?'' he asked as casually as he could, still not casting his eyes in her direction.

''Now why would I do something like that?'' Anja purred.

''Jealousy?'' Steve ventured. ''Boredom? Slow day at the helm of world domination?''

''You can prove exactly nothing. I may not like you - and I may care even less for that little scoop of vanilla you chose to marry - but why would I want to leave a sweet little baby motherless?''

Steve gripped his paper tighter, forcing his hands not to shake in anger as Anja dragged not only Jaime but Becca into the conversation. He kept quiet, hoping she'd dig herself into a hole (and yet inwardly dreading what she might say next).

''Is she safe today, that tiny daughter of yours? And are you sure about that?''

The chair flew out from under him as Steve sailed across the room in one long stride, his right fist purposely missing her head by just a fraction of an inch and sinking into the wall. He leaned in close, his fist still resting in the hole in the wall and supporting his weight as his face nearly touched Anja's. His eyes blazed with fury and he whispered too softly for the room's recording equipment to detect his words.

''Threaten my daughter again, you witch, and I'll not only see that you get The Chair - I'll be there myself, pulling the switch. Do you understand?''

Anja grinned mockingly in his face and - completely undeterred - used the closeness and Steve's outburst of emotion to her own advantage. She tilted her head up...and kissed him.

Infuriated and disgusted almost to the point of nausea, Steve pressed his code into the keypad and slammed from the room. Oscar stepped from the vantage point at the viewing window and grabbed his arm, stopping him from storming down the hall.

''Nice work, Pal; you've almost got her. Now you need to go back in there - and finish.''


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Steve stared at his boss in disbelief. Maybe from his vantage point at the viewing window, Oscar hadn't seen the she-devil actually _kiss_him. Steve's mind and his stomach were both reeling with disgust at what Anja had just said and done! He wasn't sure if he could - or even should - go back in there.

''You've almost got her 'broken','' Oscar told him, patting Steve on the back. ''Don't give her time to collect herself now.''

''I need to see Jaime and Becca first,'' Steve said.

''You need to get back inside,'' Oscar insisted firmly.

''Oscar, I...can't.''

''I've never known you to lose your confidence before - and now certainly isn't the time. We _need_ this confession, Pal. And you're almost there!''

Steve shot Oscar a puzzled (and slightly wounded) look. ''What happened to you, Oscar?'' he wondered. ''While you were in the hospital, did they surgically extract the part of you that used to be my _friend_?''

Oscar looked back at him with dark, serious eyes. ''I want the same things you do here. Justice - for _all_ of us - and _safety_ for Jaime and Becca. You've cracked her exterior shell; please don't give her any time to heal.''

Steve nodded and drew a deep breath. ''You're right.''

Oscar re-opened the door...and Steve stepped back inside the little room. ''Back for more, Lover?'' Anja leered.

Steve retrieved his chair from the far side of the room and brought it close to where she sat, demonstrating that he was _not_ intimidated. ''When you first designed that machine, what was the purpose?'' he asked. ''Just an experiment?''

''What machine would that be?'' Anja purred, lowering her face to look at him through long, curled eyelashes.

''Did you have subjects in mind from the start? Your brothers, maybe?''

''You wanna know what's on my mind right now?''

''Did the three of you work together - you and your brothers - or did you just steal their idea and run with it?'' Steve shot, trying to bait her.

''The last thing I built with my brothers was a doghouse. I was five.'' Anja scowled at the unwelcome memory...then licked her lips as her eyes bore into Steve's like daggers. ''Tell me why you're so loyal to Vanilla,'' she demanded, ''when _everyone_ knows she stepped out on you...with that doctor fellow...''

Steve's fury bubbled up from inside of him like a tea kettle that had been simmering on the burner too long - and he had no lemons or peppermint oil to soothe the rage...

* * *

Mark brought the wheelchair up to the bed. ''It's been a long time since you've been out in the fresh air, hasn't it?'' he said brightly. ''Would you rather have our session in the garden or down by the lake?''

''No,'' Jaime told him.

''The flowers have just started blooming; Steve tells me it's your favorite time of year. So how about the garden?''

''No.''

''Alright,'' the therapist said amiably. ''Suit yourself. We'll just talk here then.''

Rudy and Corinth hit the doorway just in time to hear the third - and by far the loudest - ''NO!''

Rudy had another food tray in his hands, as he'd happened by just when the first one had hit the wall. He set it in front of Jaime with some cheerful, loving praise. ''You did an excellent job this morning, Honey. Now we need to keep your energy up.'' He and Corinth stepped back, as much to be out of the line of fire as to give her room to eat.

Jaime's eyes quickly scanned the tray: hot ham and cheese, carrot sticks, a chocolate chip cookie; all things she normally enjoyed. Today...not so much. She beamed innocently at the three doctors as she picked up the cookie and devoured it. They smiled back.

Mark was the first to spot Jaime's fingers curling around the bottom of the lunch tray. ''Let's not go there,'' he told her softly. Jaime's smile didn't waver as she raised the tray just a few inches from the table...then swung it out to hold it over the floor. ''It's a long time until dinner,'' Mark cautioned.

''Had a cookie,'' she said stubbornly.

''Do not throw the tray,'' he warned.

''Okay!'' Jaime agreed brightly...opening her fingers and simply letting it clatter to the floor.

This was enough to make the ever-patient therapist want to burst into a good scolding, complete with consequences, except in Jaime's case there was little to nothing they could take away from her. Rudy's nostrils flared and he shook his head at her in disapproval while Corinth scribbled notes on a pad. It was _Michael_ who pushed through the group in the doorway - with a scolding on his lips...and a broom and long-handled dustpan in his hands.

''Why would you do that?'' he asked their suddenly-defiant patient. ''Now you have NO lunch, the noise startled your daughter next door - and you have one heck of a mess to clean up.'' He strode up to the bed, leaned the cleaning tools against a chair and threw back Jaime's covers, taking her hand and gently pulling her out of bed. Mark watched from his corner in bemused silence. ''That's right; you made the mess - _you_ clean it up. You're fully capable,'' Michael told her (ignoring the quivering little pout). He helped Jaime gain her footing then handed her the broom and dustpan.

With both of Michael's arms supporting her around her waist (and under the watchful eyes of the other three doctors), Jaime slowly began to clean up her own mess.

* * *

''What did it feel like,'' Anja taunted, ''to see Vanilla in the arms of another man? I'll bet you wanted to slap her, huh? Maybe you _did_...''

''I've never hit a woman in my life,'' Steve growled. ''Keep it up, and you'll be the first.''

''Ooh - now that could be _fun_!''

''NO one _ever_ wanted you like that, did they Anna?'' he shot back, wrestling the exchange back under his control. ''The only men you were ever with, you had to throw yourself at them. Is that what gave you the idea to control their minds, since you couldn't control their -''

''No!''

''When did it become more than an idea? When you were bored one day in science class? When your brothers got too old to do everything their little sister ordered them to do? When you looked over their shoulders like bratty kid sisters always do, saw something that interested you...and _stole_ it?''

''I stole _nothing_!'' Anja snapped.

''Fine. It was your idea; maybe as a way to control them...? But of course they had to build it for you because there was no way -''

''_I built it myself!_ Thought of it, drew it out and built it - all by myself! Are you happy now?''

''Very.''


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Michael's arms remained firmly around Jaime's waist (to steady her) as she swept up first the ham and cheese and then the burger. They moved as a unit to the wastebasket and then the young doctor led her over to where Mark was sitting and watching them silently.

''Well?'' Michael prompted gently.

''I'm...sorry,'' Jaime told him (told both of them, really).

Mark smiled at her. ''You've been cooped up - and in pain - beyond your endurance. Lashing out is normal. I'd worry more if you didn't.''

Jaime looked from one man's understanding face...to the other. _Michael's been through this with me before_, she realized, _when I had amnesia. When we were...together._ The dark eyes that looked back at her (directly into her own) were not 'Kingsley eyes' or eyes that meant her any harm. In spite of what had more recently transpired between them - across the barrel of a gun - Jaime knew instinctively that she was _safe_ with him now...and there were questions only Michael could answer.

''Mark...'' she ventured, pretty sure what his answer was going to be but already scrambling for ways around that, ''could I...would it be okay if I...talked to Michael...alone?''

* * *

''Was it to play around and see what you could force your brothers to do - or was your heart _black_ from the very start?'' Steve probed. ''What gave you the idea to -''

''My dog was cold,'' Anja said with a shrug and a sly smile, ''so I designed and built him a doghouse. Well...isn't that what you were asking about?''

''Your 'machine' was only a piece of junk, wasn't it, Anna?'' Steve persisted. ''Grant and Graham built the real machine and you couldn't stand that they'd left you in the dust. Maybe it was even your idea, something you threw out there for fun...and they did what you couldn't. Is that it? Don't forget, I saw both devices. Theirs was compact, programmable and even looked user-friendly. Yours...was a huge pile of spare parts that you tossed together from the junkyard so you could pretend -''

''Mine _**worked**_**!**'' Anja fired angrily.

Steve smiled. He had her...and they both knew it. ''You probably played with the idea - in your head - for most of your life,'' Steve ventured. ''Little sister, never quite measures up even when she _bypasses_ her brothers...over and over again!''

''Like your _wife_ bypassed you?'' Anja sneered. ''Let's talk about _that_...''

''When was it more than an idea, Anna? More than sketches in a notebook? I'll bet I can guess.''

''You know nothing!'' Anja spat bitterly. ''Not even how to keep a woman happy!''

Steve dug his fingers into the palms of his hands and swallowed his anger. ''Never quite measured up on your own, did you?'' he shot back. ''You tried SO hard - and you almost made it. Then you lost that internship and it all went to _hell_. That's it, isn't it? You'd worked up to it, you possibly even deserved it - wanted it so badly you could _taste_ it - and you just missed. The studying, the years and years of hard work to stay ahead of your brothers...all wasted.''

''You know nothing!''

''You had to crawl out of the country to hide and 'lick your wounds','' Steve dug at her. ''You _**failed**_, Anna! You had no back-up plan and you failed!''

Anja flinched visibly at the word that burned her like no other...and it brought out her fangs. ''Just like you _failed_ your own wife? You couldn't protect her...couldn't keep her safe! And guess what? You still can't!''

* * *

For a few moments, Mark was at a (very rare) loss for words. He wanted Jaime to be able to trust her medical team - and every doctor on it - without reservation. It had taken a lot for her to feel safe enough to allow Michael into the room to examine her, not that long ago. If Mark tried to deny her request now, it would reinforce that initial knee-jerk reaction that he was still a danger to her. _Was he?_

_If you're asking whether I think it's safe to allow Michael to assess Jaime alone_...Mark had told Steve, less than 24 hours earlier, _in terms of Jaime's physical safety, yes. In terms of her emotional well-being, I can't recommend it._

Had the tides turned that much in less than a day? Perhaps they had, Mark realized. He would 'busy' himself in Becca's cubicle right next-door, within sight through the glass wall (and within earshot as well)...and he would allow Jaime's request.

* * *

''There wasn't enough left of that 'machine' of yours to fill a tin can,'' Steve said with quiet anger, ''and you have no power without it. Mission UN-accomplished. _Fail_. What _was_ the ultimate 'mission' for you, anyhow? Who or what were you after? Money? Personal power? Revenge?''

''Maybe it was just for fun,'' Anja laughed. ''Watching the mice scurrying on their little wheels, going nowhere -''

''I don't believe that for a second!'' Steve scoffed. ''All that effort, just for amusement?''

''I was bored. And I'm bored now. I wonder...if Vanilla is equally bored?''

''Where did you get the funding?'' Steve persisted. ''It took a lot of years, didn't it? Were you still scraping it all together when you tried to con money from me? Money for information - was that how you did it, all along? Rejected here, rejected by the Soviets...so you sold information to get your capital?''

''Money wasn't what I wanted from you,'' Anja purred. ''What I wanted, I got...and it was SO good! Maybe Vanilla would get a charge out of knowing...''


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Michael helped Jaime get comfortable and then, wearing his best professional bedside manner, pulled up a chair and let her take the lead. ''I'm..._scared_, Michael,'' she began, very softly.

''Of me? We can bring Mark back in if you'd like - or Rudy -''

''No. Not scared...of you. It's just...I...well...will I always be...like this?'' Jaime wondered tremulously.

''You've been improving every day,'' Michael assured, ''sometimes even by the hour.''

''That's not...it, either.''

''What can I do to help you, Jaime?'' he offered.

''When I...when we were in...'' Her mind couldn't quite bring the right words forward. It was SO frustrating, knowing exactly what she wanted - _needed_ - to say and yet finding herself nearly speechless.

''Take your time,'' Michael encouraged.

''My surgery...before...'' Jaime's hand beat the blanket as she tried to make the words in her head come out of her mouth. ''...in...Colorado...'' she began again. Michael was shocked; did she remember that time in their lives again? And what was she asking him? He waited patiently. ''When we were...when _you_ were getting me ready...you made sure...that...well, that I got it. That I knew what was...happening...and what might happen.'' Jaime paused to look straight at Michael. _Did he understand?_

He nodded...and smiled. ''Correct me if I'm wrong,'' he told her, ''but what you're saying is that in Colorado you knew exactly what was coming next, what the possible complications were - and what the surgery itself was expected to accomplish. Am I close?''

Jaime nodded. ''And here...it's all so...different. You and the others, you...tell Steve this stuff, like I'm too feeble to...to understand or even have...an opinion.''

''You're right,'' Michael admitted, ''and I'm sorry. I know better; we all do.''

''I'm still...in here,'' Jaime said softly, thankful that he _understood_.

* * *

''I'm hungry,'' Anja announced with a yawn.

Truth be told, so was Steve. He gave a single rap to the observation glass to signal his assent.

''Tell the powers-that-be that I want mushrooms on my steak and extra butter on the potato,'' Anja chuckled.

''You'll take what they bring you,'' Steve snapped, ''and be happy if it's not bread and water. So in the meantime, who was your target, Anna? Who were you trying to hurt?''

''What would you say if I told you...it was YOU?''

''Too easy - and too late in the game,'' Steve scoffed. ''I'm thinking it was Rudy Wells, for rejecting you.''

''You're getting warmer,'' Anja teased.

''And maybe his hospital...''

''Warmer still.''

''Or the agency behind it.'' Steve concluded.

''Ha! Stone cold! At least...if you're talking about the beginnings.''

''So the OSI as a whole - that came later?''

''Maybe,'' Anja smirked.

''Then _tell me who your target was_!'' Steve thundered, directly in her face.

The knock on the door signified lunch had arrived. (It had been waiting for them.) Steve took the rolling cart from the guard and (since they no longer had a table) wheeled it in front of Anja.

''I can force feed you like a child...or I can unshackle one of your arms.''

Anja grinned obscenely. ''Ooh...feed me, Lover; I'd _like_ that!''

His lip curled in disgust, Steve unhooked Anja's right hand from her belly chain. ''Don't make me regret this,'' he warned. He uncovered her plate of grayish, unidentifiable mystery meat and shoved the fork into her hand...then he pulled up a chair and unwrapped his own lunch. As requested, he'd been sent an inch-thick corned beef and swiss with a side of fries and a large hunk of chocolate cake. He began eating with gusto while Anja pushed the cold, congealed gravy from her meal and started picking at the meat.

''Looks delicious,'' he chuckled. His quarry scowled at him. ''So who _was_ your first real target then?'' he probed. ''I'll guess you'd been toying with the idea for a few years, maybe even built a prototype, then something - or someone - got you mad enough to _really_ make a move. If it wasn't Rudy Wells - for rejecting you - then it was the person you think stood in your way...and stole it all away from you.'' He watched the way she angrily speared the gray lump on her plate with the fork. ''That's it...isn't it? The first person you tried to control...the one you wanted most to hurt...no - to _destroy_...it was _**Michael Marchetti**_**!**''

* * *

''We never meant to belittle or exclude you,'' Michael soothed. ''And of course I'll answer any questions you have. But I'd like to ask _you _something first, if that's alright.'' Jaime nodded. ''It's important for me to know this,'' he explained, ''so I can make the right decision about more surgery for you. Your memory - how much of it is coming back to you? Is it just bits and pieces? Or -''

Jaime shook her head slowly...and smiled. ''It was at first. But now...I remember _all_ of it, Michael.''

* * *

''So maybe it was,'' Anja snarled. ''He didn't deserve that internship; it was supposed to be mine! I worked my whole life for it!''

''And you don't think he did the same?'' Steve countered.

''Not like I did!'' she insisted through clenched teeth. She began jabbing wildly at her lunch (without taking a single bite) until Steve reached over and removed the fork from her hand. Anja responded by clasping her fingers in a vice-grip around Steve's wrist and yanking him toward her before he had a chance to pull away. Her tongue lolled grotesquely from her mouth as she leaned forward to attempt another kiss.

Steve reared back away from her then in an almost visceral reaction of disgust, pulled his hand back...and slapped her.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 10

Michael helped Jaime get comfortable and then, wearing his best professional bedside manner, pulled up a chair and let her take the lead. ''I'm..._scared_, Michael,'' she began, very softly.

''Of me? We can bring Mark back in if you'd like - or Rudy -''

''No. Not scared...of you. It's just...I...well...will I always be...like this?'' Jaime wondered tremulously.

''You've been improving every day,'' Michael assured, ''sometimes even by the hour.''

''That's not...it, either.''

''What can I do to help you, Jaime?'' he offered.

''When I...when we were in...'' Her mind couldn't quite bring the right words forward. It was SO frustrating, knowing exactly what she wanted - _needed_ - to say and yet finding herself nearly speechless.

''Take your time,'' Michael encouraged.

''My surgery...before...'' Jaime's hand beat the blanket as she tried to make the words in her head come out of her mouth. ''...in...Colorado...'' she began again. Michael was shocked; did she remember that time in their lives again? And what was she asking him? He waited patiently. ''When we were...when _you_ were getting me ready...you made sure...that...well, that I got it. That I knew what was...happening...and what might happen.'' Jaime paused to look straight at Michael. _Did he understand?_

He nodded...and smiled. ''Correct me if I'm wrong,'' he told her, ''but what you're saying is that in Colorado you knew exactly what was coming next, what the possible complications were - and what the surgery itself was expected to accomplish. Am I close?''

Jaime nodded. ''And here...it's all so...different. You and the others, you...tell Steve this stuff, like I'm too feeble to...to understand or even have...an opinion.''

''You're right,'' Michael admitted, ''and I'm sorry. I know better; we all do.''

''I'm still...in here,'' Jaime said softly, thankful that he _understood_.

* * *

''I'm hungry,'' Anja announced with a yawn.

Truth be told, so was Steve. He gave a single rap to the observation glass to signal his assent.

''Tell the powers-that-be that I want mushrooms on my steak and extra butter on the potato,'' Anja chuckled.

''You'll take what they bring you,'' Steve snapped, ''and be happy if it's not bread and water. So in the meantime, who was your target, Anna? Who were you trying to hurt?''

''What would you say if I told you...it was YOU?''

''Too easy - and too late in the game,'' Steve scoffed. ''I'm thinking it was Rudy Wells, for rejecting you.''

''You're getting warmer,'' Anja teased.

''And maybe his hospital...''

''Warmer still.''

''Or the agency behind it.'' Steve concluded.

''Ha! Stone cold! At least...if you're talking about the beginnings.''

''So the OSI as a whole - that came later?''

''Maybe,'' Anja smirked.

''Then _tell me who your target was_!'' Steve thundered, directly in her face.

The knock on the door signified lunch had arrived. (It had been waiting for them.) Steve took the rolling cart from the guard and (since they no longer had a table) wheeled it in front of Anja.

''I can force feed you like a child...or I can unshackle one of your arms.''

Anja grinned obscenely. ''Ooh...feed me, Lover; I'd _like_ that!''

His lip curled in disgust, Steve unhooked Anja's right hand from her belly chain. ''Don't make me regret this,'' he warned. He uncovered her plate of grayish, unidentifiable mystery meat and shoved the fork into her hand...then he pulled up a chair and unwrapped his own lunch. As requested, he'd been sent an inch-thick corned beef and swiss with a side of fries and a large hunk of chocolate cake. He began eating with gusto while Anja pushed the cold, congealed gravy from her meal and started picking at the meat.

''Looks delicious,'' he chuckled. His quarry scowled at him. ''So who _was_ your first real target then?'' he probed. ''I'll guess you'd been toying with the idea for a few years, maybe even built a prototype, then something - or someone - got you mad enough to _really_ make a move. If it wasn't Rudy Wells - for rejecting you - then it was the person you think stood in your way...and stole it all away from you.'' He watched the way she angrily speared the gray lump on her plate with the fork. ''That's it...isn't it? The first person you tried to control...the one you wanted most to hurt...no - to _destroy_...it was _**Michael Marchetti**_**!**''

* * *

''We never meant to belittle or exclude you,'' Michael soothed. ''And of course I'll answer any questions you have. But I'd like to ask _you _something first, if that's alright.'' Jaime nodded. ''It's important for me to know this,'' he explained, ''so I can make the right decision about more surgery for you. Your memory - how much of it is coming back to you? Is it just bits and pieces? Or -''

Jaime shook her head slowly...and smiled. ''It was at first. But now...I remember _all_ of it, Michael.''

* * *

''So maybe it was,'' Anja snarled. ''He didn't deserve that internship; it was supposed to be mine! I worked my whole life for it!''

''And you don't think he did the same?'' Steve countered.

''Not like I did!'' she insisted through clenched teeth. She began jabbing wildly at her lunch (without taking a single bite) until Steve reached over and removed the fork from her hand. Anja responded by clasping her fingers in a vice-grip around Steve's wrist and yanking him toward her before he had a chance to pull away. Her tongue lolled grotesquely from her mouth as she leaned forward to attempt another kiss.

Steve reared back away from her then in an almost visceral reaction of disgust, pulled his hand back...and slapped her.

- - - - -


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The interrogation room door opened and closed behind him and Anja was escorted out...but Steve heard none of it. He had done his job well; an admission of guilt as well as a timetable and intended victim(s)...but at what cost to himself? Oscar took an instant to ensure the prisoner was securely in the custody of his best team (and on her way back to The Hole), then he rushed to Steve's side. He grabbed the lemon wedge from Steve's iced tea on the forgotten lunch cart and pressed it into the distressed man's mouth but it was too little, too late. Steve's skin was clammy and his eyes were distant, focused on unseen horrors. His breathing was rapid and obviously ineffectual as his bluish-gray lips gasped for more oxygen. He was in shock.

''Call an ambulance!'' Oscar ordered over one shoulder to the guard as he helped his friend into a chair. ''And alert Mark Conrad to be waiting in the ER!''

* * *

''Your memory returning is an excellent sign,'' Michael confirmed. ''Don't force it, though.''

''I know,'' Jaime told him. ''And...I don't have to. It's just...there.'' She hesitated, once again struggling to find her words. ''Michael...? If I don't have...more surgery...things will still get better than...than _this_. Right?''

''That's our hope. All signs point to your continuing to improve.''

''How much?''

''Like I said, I believe you'll be walking on your own again before you know it. Your verbal skills are obviously returning - and will keep improving the more you work at it. To put it simply, you're already functioning at a much higher level than we'd dared to hope for and you _will_ continue gaining ground, both physically and mentally. How much, though...I can't honestly say. I know you're scared, Jaime - but as frightening as the thought of more surgery might be to you, try to focus on the thought that your gains will increase exponentially. Yes, you should eventually be able to live a 'normal' life as you are now - without any further surgery - but I'm not so sure it'd be a life you'll be content with. I don't want you to feel pressured or under the gun in any way but -''

Michael stopped. Jaime's eyes had suddenly flooded with frightened tears. She suddenly looked like a whipped puppy - her reaction far beyond even the 'scary' subject of brain surgery. ''Jaime...?'' he said gently. ''What is it?''

''_Under the gun_...'' she repeated. ''Nooo...'' A terrifying and inescapable slideshow began flashing through her mind's eye. _Michael...the cabin...needles...a __gun_. ''Please...'' she whispered, trembling, ''don't...hurt me...''

Michael knew that the worst thing he could possibly do was try to comfort her himself. He rose quickly from his chair and stepped into the hallway, calling into the next cubicle. ''_Mark_!''

''He's in the ER,'' a nurse answered. ''Urgent page.''

''Well, this is urgent too; page Rudy Wells, then! And get me 10 mg diazepam - STAT.'' Michael had no choice but to return to Jaime. He couldn't leave her alone in her terror...but he also knew his mere presence (at this moment) was making things worse. ''I won't hurt you, Jaime,'' he told her gently. ''That was a poor choice of words - and I am SO sorry - but I _promise_ I won't hurt you.''

''Stay...away!'' she gasped.

His patient was in physical distress...and rapidly getting worse. The man in him knew he was the direct cause of her pain...and it hurt him deeply. The physician in him took over, almost on auto-pilot. He pulled the oxygen mask from the wall above Jaime's head and, dodging her flailing hands as she tried to ward him off, pressed it firmly to her face.

''Breathe deeply for me,'' he said in a soothing, professional voice. ''Let me help you, Jaime; please don't fight me. You're only hurting yourself.'' He was aware of how bad that might sound to Jaime in her near-panic but until more help arrived, he was all she had. (_Where the hell was Rudy?_)

Jaime batted at Michael's arms and pulled at the mask as her _fight or flight_ instinct kicked into high gear. She was trapped in the bed - unable to get away under her own power - so she would have to do her best to try and fight him off. She couldn't talk with the oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth so she shook her head violently as her silenced lips formed the word 'NO'.

''You're safe,'' Michael told her softly. ''I won't hurt you; please...don't hurt _yourself_. Nice deep breaths and you'll start to feel a whole lot better.''

''Here, doctor.'' From behind him, a nurse handed him the requested syringe. ''And Doctor Wells is on his way.''

Ideally, Michael would have waited and let Rudy administer the tranquilizer - but Jaime needed it _**now**_. Her flailing was becoming dangerous. He tried to bring the needle around from the side (where she wouldn't see it) but as she tossed her head toward him she caught sight of it and it only served to refuel her terror.

In Jaime's mind, he had gagged her (after all, she could no longer speak) and now there was a needle in his hand! She whimpered softly - and the sound broke Michael's heart as the needle hit its mark.

''What did you do to her this time?'' Rudy demanded angrily from the doorway.

- - - - -


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

''Say or do what you want to me,'' Michael snapped. ''But _let's help her now_!'' He stepped aside so Rudy could take over. Michael eyed the monitors tensely as Rudy reattached the wires. (Would her flailing cause Jaime to throw another clot?)

''Pulse 150 and thready. Weak,'' Rudy announced. At her well-conditioned bionic-best, Jaime's pulse (while resting in bed) should have been around 45. While she had stopped thrashing, her breathing and the look in her eyes spoke volumes; she was anything but calm.

''Pulse-Ox 75 but rising slowly,'' Michael told his former mentor.

Jaime's eyes moved from Michael to Rudy and back again as the tranquilizer began to take hold. Instead of batting ineffectually at the oxygen mask, she began to pull at it instead. Rudy reached down to gently hold it in place. ''It's helping, Honey,'' he told her. ''Don't fight it.''

Jaime continued to pull at the mask - her motions becoming more urgent as she fought from letting the drug take her down. ''Pulse-Ox 95,'' Michael told Rudy. Since she obviously had something to say, Rudy removed the mask (ready to replace it once Jaime had given in to sleep).

''Rudy...'' she whispered, ''Michael...didn't do this.'' And then she was out.

* * *

''Don't need an ambulance!'' Steve had insisted through gritted teeth - but he allowed Oscar and the medics to lead him outside and onto a stretcher in the back. He was fighting his own way out of the flashback but was having a terrible time of it; he knew he needed help._You aren't here_, he told Kingsley through the smoke and explosions (exactly as Mark had instructed him to do) and the vision was slowly fading but refused to disappear entirely.

Mark was waiting in the ambulance bay and could see as his stricken patient was wheeled inside that he was still too far 'gone' for the usual remedies to have any effect. Steve's focus was still distant, unseeing, and Mark ordered immediate IV sedation and treatment for shock.

''What the _hell_ happened in there?'' he demanded angrily from Oscar, once Steve was safely unconscious. ''And _where were you_?''

''He was so close to getting what we needed,'' Oscar defended. ''I had to let him keep going!''

''Well, I hope you got the results you wanted...because _this_ was the result for him! Happy now?''

''Doctor Conrad, when you're done here, you have another urgent page - to ICU,'' a nurse told him.

''Jaime! What happened?'' he asked. In the back of his mind, he had the same terrible thought that had occurred to Rudy: _What did Michael do?_

''I'm not sure...but it looks bad. Doctors Wells and Marchetti are with her.''

''Thank you. Please tell them I'll be there shortly.'' Mark turned his attention back to Steve. His vitals were normalizing and his color was returning. He'd be asleep for at least several hours, so after arranging for him to be watched closely, Mark felt it was safe to answer his other page.

* * *

He found Rudy and Michael 'chatting' rather heatedly in the hallway outside of Jaime's cubicle. ''I heard what she said,'' Rudy was telling Michael, ''but I'd still like to hear - _from you_ - what caused this.''

''Excuse me,'' Mark said, inserting himself into the conversation. ''What happened?''

''Jaime had a panic attack,'' Michael explained. ''And yes; it was my fault. A very poor choice of words on my part. I thought she was having a flashback, but diazepam calmed her down. She's resting.'' He turned to Rudy. ''One thing we have to be careful of, that Jaime pointed out to me, was that we need to be careful not talk 'over' her or 'around' her. Her mental faculties are sharp...and getting sharper. She's the patient and we need to talk _to_ her, as well as to Steve and each other.''

Mark nodded. ''A good point. I think we've all been a little guilty of that.''

''Don't dodge the issue,'' Rudy insisted. ''What happened that sent her into a panic?''

''We were talking about her surgery,'' Michael explained, ''and I told her I didn't want her to feel like she was 'under the gun'.''

''And that's all that happened?'' Rudy probed suspiciously.

''That's all.''

''In Jaime's frame of mind, that was more than enough,'' Mark confirmed. ''Not saying you have to walk on eggshells, Michael...but we all need to tread a little more lightly. Wherever the fault lies - whether it's with you, with the Kingsleys or - at the present time - in her own mind, Jaime's been severely traumatized. I'll talk with her and see what I can do.''

* * *

As it happened, Steve woke before Jaime did...and his instinct told him that something had happened to her, so nothing and no one could keep him from leaving his bed and rushing to her side. He and Mark were both there when she gradually came to. Her vitals were stable and her eyes were calm, so Mark dove right in.

''Hi there,'' he said gently. ''I hear you had a rather frightening experience today.''

Jaime squeezed Steve's hand a little tighter for reassurance as she struggled to find the words. She and Steve hadn't really broached the subject of Michael (what he had done to her, in comparison to where things stood now), so she wasn't sure what his reaction might be. ''I...he...it wasn't his fault. Please, Steve...don't be angry with him for it.''

''I trust you, Sweetheart,'' Steve told her softly. ''And I trust your judgment.'' He held her hand as Jaime's eyelids fluttered closed again and she drifted back to sleep - then Mark motioned him into the hallway.

''It might be time to tell her what you think,'' Mark suggested. ''That Michael was under Anna Kingsley's influence. She doesn't know what happened when you destroyed that machine...does she?''

''No; I just...haven't found the right way to tell her about that...''

''Tell you what; I'll talk to her first and try to get her feelings on the subject - then we'll go from there.''

It would not be an easy conversation...

* * *

''I know what you said - about Michael not being at fault today,'' Mark began, when Jaime was awake again. He'd sent Steve and the other doctors away so he could talk to her alone. ''But how do you _really_ feel about having him as a doctor now?''

''He saved my life. Again,'' Jaime pointed out.

''Yes; I know. But that doesn't really answer my question. Were you frightened today, being alone in the room with him?''

''No. At least...not until he said...'' Jaime stopped, for the moment unable to continue.

''I know what he said; he told us. What I want to know now is, are you okay with having him as one of your doctors?''

''Well...I have to be...if I want my life back. But...'' Tears formed in her eyes.

''But...?'' Mark questioned.

''But when he said that...about being...'' She swallowed hard. ''About being 'under the gun'...it...well, it reminded me _again_ that...he _raped _me...''

It was the first time she had used the actual word.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

''Was that what got to you today?'' Mark asked, as gently as possible. ''The rape?''

''No. Not really,'' Jaime explained. ''I saw...a gun...and a needle...and I couldn't talk. It was weird...because he...he never gagged me...when he _attacked_ me -''

''You've finally called it what it really was; let's not go back.''

''But I..._hate_ that word.''

''I know you do - and it's a hate-filled word. But it applies.''

''Anyhow...'' she went on, ''this was...'' (What was the right word?) ''_Weird_. It wasn't a flashback. I knew...where I was. I...I could see it all in my mind...but he's not my..._attacker_...not anymore.''

Mark decided to let the correction stand - for now. She'd said it; they'd broken the barrier. He stayed silent, sensing Jaime had more to say.

She did. ''He's...a different person now. The _old_ Michael again. The one...I fell in love with once.''

_That_ got Mark's attention. Had she been dreaming? Remembering what she'd been told...or _truly_ remembering? He would have to broach the subject Steve had been unable to voice. ''Jaime, we think it's possible that Michael hurt you - starting with your ear and moving on from there - while he was under the effects of the mind control machine.''

''Ohh...'' she whispered, letting it sink in. ''That's what gave him...'_Kingsley eyes_, then.''

''It could very well be. I'm going to do some work with him personally and see what I can find out.''

''And...you'll tell me?''

''I'll tell you what I can; there's confidentiality involved, of course,'' Mark explained. ''But my primary concern right now is making sure that you feel safe.''

''Am I...safe?'' Once again, she shuddered as the worst of the memories coursed through her. It was hard for her to reconcile _that _Michael with the one who was here now.

''I absolutely believe that you are - or I'd never allow him in here to treat you.''

''But...I know that...I need him..that he's helping me. Mark...I...sometimes I don't know what to think.''

''It must be especially confusing now, with your memory back,'' he said casually (not meaning it casually at all but not wanting to spook her).

''You...know?''

''Yes; you told me without realizing it. How much have you remembered, so far?''

''Everything, I think. Um...Chris...and the OSI...and..._Michael._''

''That's wonderful news! We'll tread lightly in exploring it, but I want you to know that you're doing very, very well And after I meet with Michael today, I think it's time we let Steve know about all of this.''

''I don't know if...will he be..._angry_?'' Jaime asked tremulously.

''At hearing about such promising progress? Of course not. He'll be overjoyed,'' Mark promised (hoping he was right about that).

* * *

Once Jaime had drifted back to sleep (and Steve was sitting with her), Mark moved on to the next portion of his very full day. Michael didn't know it yet, but it was time for an honest, put-it-all-on the table conversation.

''I've got my hands full today,'' Michael stalled when Mark approached him.

''I'm sure you can eke out an hour or two, for the good of your patient - and for yourself,'' Mark insisted. ''My office, please.''

''What is it?'' Michael demanded, once they were seated, coffee in hand, behind closed doors.

''I think you already know. But I'll start you off. How do you feel toward Jaime now?''

''It's awkward,'' Michael admitted uneasily. ''But I do my best not to let her see that.''

''Because of what you did to her - or because of how you still feel about her?''

Michael paled. ''Is it that obvious?''

''Just an educated guess. You hide it very well. But do you still have ideas that you might -''

''Of course not! She's _married_ - and with a baby! I'm still...well, I don't know where those thoughts came from in the first place. I mean, I know about that damned machine but it's just so hard to believe.''

''And do you think that's what made you _rape_ her?'' Mark probed bluntly.

''You sure cut right to the chase.''

''That's my job. And aside from being my job, I'm looking out for my patient because I care.''

''I had a lot of time to think while I was in prison. It's still hard - almost impossible - to think that something like that was even in me.''

''But it was; regardless of how it got there...it happened. And I think you need to start facing that head-on.'' Mark told him.

Michael nodded. ''Those headaches - the ones I had to fight off - I'd had them for a long time,'' Michael said slowly. ''Then they started getting worse.''

''Did you have them when you kidnapped her - and when you raped her?''

''God, I dislike that word!''

''It's a word you need to face. It happened.''

''I know. What I don't know is how to deal with it now.'' Michael held his hands up and stared at them. ''All my life, these have been _**healing**_ hands. It's so hard to even comprehend...'' He shook his head. ''I understand...but I can't accept it. I have nightmares about it. I'd imagine Jaime does too.''

''Of course she does,'' Mark confirmed. ''But right now, let's talk about you. Any more of those headaches?''

''Not since Steve smashed that..._device_.''

''If they recur, I want you to tell me immediately.''

''I will; I swear it. I know how fortunate I am to have this second chance. I don't want to lose it. And I certainly don't want to harm anyone. To tell the truth, I never did. _How __could__ I_...?''

''I'd like to meet with you regularly and talk about that'' Mark offered. ''There's a lot to sort out.''

''Thank you. Even if I gripe about it - and about _you_ - I appreciate that.''

''And someday, hopefully soon, I want to sit down with you and Steve together - but only when you're both ready.''

Michael wasn't sure he'd ever be ready for that...


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Anja sat back on her little bench in The Hole with a satisfied smile. She wondered idly how Steve was doing - and hoped she'd been able to throw at least another small monkey wrench into his path. Things had never gone smoothly for her; it was hardly fair that his life should be smooth or happy (or that it should be that way for _any_ of them).

When the OSI scientific team visited - as had been expected - in spite of what she'd already told Steve, Anja remained closed-lipped. ''I have nothing to say to you,'' she informed them.

''You've already confessed,'' one of them pointed out. ''You may as well help yourself now, by helping us.''

''HA! I'd be helping myself...how?'' she scoffed. ''Look, you want any further information from me, you get Steve Austin back here. I'll talk to him. No one else. Got it? No one.'' She turned to face the wall (as much as heavy shackles would allow), indicating the conversation was now _over_.

* * *

''This is LUDICROUS!'' Jack Hansen thundered to anyone who would listen. (Today, the 'lucky' recipient was Oscar.) ''I don't belong here - and I have an agency to run!''

''Inspector Gregory is doing a fine job,'' Oscar told him calmly. ''And I'm looking out for your best interests in keeping you here, so -''

''So the decision is yours, then?''

''In part, yes. Along with Mark Conrad and your doctor, of course.''

''Well then _get me the __**hell**__ out of here_!'' Hansen insisted.

''We interrogated Anna Kingsley today,'' Oscar told him (hoping to change the subject).

''Wonderful waste of time, seeing as she didn't do anything!''

''You'd be surprised, Jack. You would be surprised...''

* * *

It was time for Mark to get his two most important patients back onto the same page. After making quick calls to his center in Washington DC and the new one he'd set up in Los Angeles (both were doing well), he headed to Jaime's room - where Steve was still sitting at her bedside. Mark pulled up a chair - closer than his usual 'corner' and sat down to wait too.

''A few things we need to discuss,'' he told Steve very quietly.

Steve nodded, dreading what might be coming but looking forward to it too, as he knew it was _time_.

They didn't have to wait long. Very soon, Jaime began to stir in her sleep...and mumble. ''Michael...no. You...you're not here...for that. Please...''

Steve tenderly brushed his fingers across her cheek to soothe her into wakefulness, then took her hand as her eyelids fluttered open. ''Hi, Sweetheart,'' he said softly. ''It was just a dream. You're alright; you're _safe_.''

''It's a dream we need to talk about,'' Mark told them both.

It was harder than either Jaime or Steve had expected. Steve didn't want his wife to feel he was in any way trying to diminish the trauma she'd suffered - and Jaime was afraid she simply wouldn't be able to find the words. Mark tried to ease them both into it. ''You've both been through hell and back again. Who do you think is most responsible for that?''

''I...I'm not sure...'' Jaime said, shuddering again as the memories coursed through her.

Steve looked to Mark for encouragement...and the therapist nodded. Steve leaned closer to gaze directly into Jaime's confused, frightened eyes. ''You know I destroyed the machine that Anna built...right?'' he began.

''Yes...''

''Well, it seemed to bring everyone out, who'd been under its influence. Russ, Oscar, Jack Hansen - to a point - and..._Michael_. Sweetheart, he was there when it happened. Anna had pressed a button on the machine that made everyone suffer excruciating pain; Rudy said it would have been enough to kill them. Anyhow, I _saw_ Michael on the front lawn. He'd been on the ground, clutching his head. As soon as the...device...was gone, he was okay again. It could've been a brilliant piece of acting...but I don't think it was; it was just too intense.''

Jaime took a minute to digest what Steve had told her. The two men waited quietly. ''So what you're saying is...'' she wracked her brain for how to best word it... ''...that Michael might not have been...um...responsible...for what he did to me.''

''I don't think he was. Not anymore,'' Steve said slowly.

''But...why would this Anna person wanna hurt me? She...doesn't even know me!''

''Well...it seems she was out to hurt Michael...and me,'' Steve explained with a lump in his throat.

''You? Why?''

''Jaime...when we were apart, I was sent on a mission overseas - and I met her when she was calling herself Anja. We had...a relationship, of sorts...because I needed information. You seemed to be happy where you were and -''

''Was it...when I was with Michael? So...about four years ago? Steve...I was happy then...but it wasn't for the right..._reasons_. I...I know that now.''

She seemed so focused on what she'd just blurted out that she asked no questions about Anja...and Steve was floored at what she appeared to be saying. ''You mean...you _remember_?''

''Yeah; I do. I remember...everything.''

''That's wonderful, Sweetheart!'' he exclaimed, kissing her cheek. ''You're making so much progress, so fast! Means Michael's doing a great job.'' He meant what he said...but he also had to privately worry. Now that her memories had returned, was he about to lose Jaime to Michael - _**again**_?

* * *

The message from NSB-HQ was hand delivered to Oscar. Anja wanted to talk to Steve again. The side effects from their last meeting had been terrible - and _dangerous_! But now he knew he needed to send his friend and employee back in for another round. What did Anja have to say this time...and how would it affect Steve? Worrying about it was a luxury Oscar simply couldn't afford to indulge in. There was no other choice; Steve would have to be sent to visit The Hole...


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Michael found himself with some serious soul searching to do. He had to shut himself in his office for a little while...just to think. In answer to Mark's question...yes, he still loved Jaime. But he was not 'in love' with her. That took two - and she was clearly happily married. The non-mind-controlled Michael had no intentions or desires to interfere in that - but there were still twinges of his desire to be with her almost every time he went into her room. He had simply become an expert at hiding it. Hurting her? He had no thoughts whatsoever of doing that! He had the most trouble with reconciling himself to what he'd done - to the very woman he loved. He was a _rapist_, as Mark had so bluntly pointed out. _**How**_ on Earth had something like that come from him? The rage - and the severe (and lasting) harm he had caused - were something he couldn't begin to comprehend!

* * *

Oscar found his former right-hand man still staring at the wall. Instead of blanked-out eyes, Russ' countenance was filled with horror. ''I want you to know that no charges are being considered against you,'' Oscar told him. Russ didn't/couldn't answer. ''I've been told you aren't even talking with Mark Conrad when he visits,'' his boss and friend continued. ''Russ, I wish that you would; it could do you a world of good. I can't stand seeing you in so much pain.''

''I...shot...Jaime...'' Russ finally whispered. ''Could've..._killed_...her...''

''We were very fortunate. _Jaime_ was very fortunate - and she's improving every day. She doesn't blame you; nobody does.''

''Can't...I can't...face them.''

''It's alright. Mark could help you with that. And you're talking to me. That's a great start.''

* * *

Jaime held tightly to Steve's hand...but closed her eyes and pretended to sleep so she could _think_ for a little while. She knew she should talk to Steve (and she longed to) but words came so much more easily to her when she 'thought' them right now - much more readily than when she tried to express herself in speech. She _would_ talk to Steve...but Jaime needed to sort it all out in her own mind first.

Before Steve, the last two men she'd loved (or thought she did) had tried to kill her! Different reasons, of course, but it was a sobering thought. WHY had Chris done what he'd done - arranged that accident? They hadn't even been fighting; they'd been planning a wedding! They'd tried to explain it to her in the hospital, following the accident, but she still didn't _really_ understand - and it didn't have anything to do with her current brain damage and confusion! He'd wanted to retire to the NSB's sheltered 'community' - and wanted her to be with him - and supposedly hadn't known the accident would be that serious. He'd only intended to frighten her...but Jaime wasn't sure she could believe (much less understand) that.

_Michael_ was even harder for Jaime to comprehend. Mind control was such a bizarre subject; she thoroughly believed what Steve said he'd witnessed...and she herself had looked at Michael closely in that cabin (she'd had no choice) and the eyes that looked back at her weren't eyes she recognized. Well...she recognized them...but they were not Michael's eyes; they were the eyes she'd seen glaring murderously at her at that damned amusement park - from Grant Kingsley. And...the eyes she'd seen on Russ' face, just before he'd shot her. So from that knowledge, she knew that mind control was truly real. Could she trust Michael now? Her every instinct told her that she could. But even with that machine destroyed, _was it over?_

* * *

Steve watched Jaime 'sleep' - and was filled with thoughts of his own. Michael's work in the OR had given Jaime back to him (and to Becca). He seemed _different_ now, even from the man who had so recently bartered his own freedom for Jaime's life - but did Michael know about Jaime's memory returning? And what would that mean...for all of them? Steve was _grateful_ to the very bottom of his soul for the progress that Jaime was making - and so quickly - but did he stand to lose her again? And would she try to take Becca with her? Of course, his logical mind told him these thoughts were ridiculous...but he'd watched Jaime turn to Michael's arms before...and more than once!

He was also thinking about Anna Kingsley. She'd admitted that her true motives had been to get back at Rudy and Michael (mostly Michael) and through them, National Medical and the OSI itself...but had his own rejection of her, back in the Soviet Union, been what had truly set off her anger? Was he the one responsible for Jaime having had to fight for her life - and for normalcy - again? The idea broke his heart. He didn't want to leave Jaime's side but she appeared to be resting peacefully and when Mark returned to take his usual quiet spot in the corner of the cubicle, Steve headed next door for some quality time with his daughter.

''Hello, Peanut,'' he greeted softly as Becca nestled contentedly in his arms. ''You're not going to spend your whole life here; I promise. We'll get you home again just as soon as we can.'' At the sound of her daddy's voice, the infant waved a chubby arm and brushed his face, gurgling happily at him. ''Has she eaten yet?'' he asked the nurse.

''Just a bit ago. Sorry, Colonel; we didn't know you were coming.''

Steve leaned down to tenderly kiss the child's face...then wrinkled his nose. ''I'm betting I can change her now though,'' he chuckled. He had just finished doing that when Oscar tracked him down - and wordlessly handed him the note from the NSB. Steve read it...twice...then shook his head. ''It's just another manipulation,'' he announced. ''There's no way...''

An hour later, he found himself (against his own better judgment) being let into The Hole, where his quarry was still heavily shackled to the bench. ''Hello, Anna,'' he greeted with bitterness in his voice.

Anja grinned and licked her lips. ''Well, hello there, Lover,'' she purred. ''Back for more?''


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

''What do you want, Anna?'' Steve demanded impatiently. He kept his distance, as much as the tiny cell would allow. At least he was out of her reach.

''_**Anja**_,'' she corrected.

''Your name is Anna Kingsley. Now...What. Do. You. Want?''

''Come a little closer,'' she requested.

''Not on your life,'' Steve told her.

''But you wanted to know about my machine - its design and how it worked - right? Well...it's a secret. I have to whisper it to you.''

''Bullfeathers. Not even the guard can hear us - unless I knock and he opens the window. So whatever you have to say, just say it...or I am outta here.''

''Alright. Okay. But one kiss first - for old time's sake?'' Anna cooed.

''You had that already.'' Steve moved to the door and raised his hand as if to knock for the guard.

''Wait,'' Anja asked softly. ''The machine...it worked by first 'priming the subject...''

''Which means you had them close-by.''

''Yes.''

''How was that possible, when you were overseas?'' Steve pondered.

''I was still here when I had the initial device,'' Anja admitted.

_Now they were getting somewhere!_ ''Who did you hit with it first?''

''Michael Marchetti, of course. Lightly. It didn't affect him then. But later, when I was back with the main machine...'' Anja paused...and grinned almost maniacally.

''Later...what?'' Steve prompted.

''Now I require a kiss.''

Steve moved in closer. Although there was no question that he wouldn't give her what she wanted, he _needed_ this info. She was still heavily shackled and couldn't reach up to touch him, so he stroked her hair, breathing heavily on her neck before whispering directly into her ear. ''You are SO sexy. I can't resist you anymore. What is it you wanted to tell me?''

''Later, I was able to turn up the intensity from my main machine, without having to be anywhere near him. I did it this way for all of them.''

''And that intensity made him start to hurt Jaime?'' Steve queried as a whisper. Anja didn't answer, leaning into his hand as he played with her hair. Steve took her face in both of his hands and leaned in very close, gazing directly into her eyes. ''_Tell me_,'' he said softly. ''You know you can tell me anything, Lover.'' (He very nearly choked on the moniker.)

''See - I knew you wanted me,'' Anja purred. As they always had, Steve's brilliant blue eyes made her melt.

''Well, how could I not want you?'' Steve asked, forcing himself to caress her cheek. ''After what we shared...I don't know what I was thinking. You were _right there_, in my arms...and I threw you away. I am _so_ sorry. So what was it you did to Michael first? What was that very first order?'' he pried.

''First, I wanted him to take her away from you. It was only right.''

''Of course it was,'' Steve agreed. ''Because you wanted us to be together. You did it...for me.''

''Naturally.''

The admission that, indeed, revenge on him (or a lust for him) had caused possibly irreparable harm to Jaime, broke Steve's heart...but he had to continue. He had to get it ALL. Steve ran a finger gently across her lips. ''When it didn't work, then you had to force him to hurt her?'' he asked.

''Well...'' Anja wished she could reach her hands up and return his caress...or pull his face that last inch or two toward her own. As it was, she had to settle for gazing into his eyes - something she'd longed to do since meeting him years earlier. Her tongue darted out...but just missed his lips (exactly as Steve intended). ''You were _supposed_ to be mine. And if she wouldn't leave you - or vice-versa, then she HAD to be out of the picture.''

''I understand,'' Steve told her, nearly gagging as he nuzzled her neck. ''Tell me more. That was when you had him hurt Rudy...wasn't it?''

''There should have been no one to help her.''

''But he didn't die.''

''Didn't want him to,'' Anja admitted, finding it hard to catch her breath now. ''Just needed him...incapacitated.''

''And the damage to Jaime...'' Steve's lips brushed her neck without actually kissing her.

''So gradual that no one would notice until it was too late. And when that didn't work, well...I had that OSI man under control too.''

''And you had her shot,'' Steve concluded (his blood boiling as his spirit was crushed by the info).

''I had no choices left. It had to be that way...for US!''

''And your brothers...what about them?'' Steve pushed further.

''Grant failed in his mission. He was to hurt you both.'' She struggled to lean further into the tender touch she'd wanted for so long. ''You, so that you couldn't help her. And _Jaime_...''

''What about Jaime?'' Steve held her face in both hands, wishing he was squeezing her neck instead.

''She was to suffer and then DIE...as painfully as possible.''

He was almost done...and he knew it. ''And...Graham?'' he queried.

''Graham failed me also. He was supposed to shoot you.''

''Me? Why? I thought...we had something together!''

''Ah, but by then it was obvious we did not. And _**she**_ didn't deserve to have you! When that failed, I brought in the OSI man...to KILL her!''

Steve pulled back, pushing her head away from him so that it hit the wall (a little harder than he'd intended). ''And you deserve nothing but the Death Penalty!'' he snarled, turning and knocking on the door. ''We're done here,'' he told the guard.

* * *

After pretending to sleep, Jaime had actually drifted off for a short while. When she woke, she was murmuring her daughter's name. Mark got up and stood at her side, waiting until she was fully awake. ''I can get her for you,'' he offered.

''Please,'' Jaime requested. ''She needs someone to hold her who isn't a nurse. She needs her Mama.''

Mark knew that Becca's Mama needed the child equally as much - and he retrieved her (along with her next bottle) and placed her in Jaime's waiting arms, with a pillow on each side, just in case. Becca was wide awake and cooed and gurgled happily at the sight of her mother's face. Jaime had been concerned that she might see the nurses as her parents now, but she needn't have worried. She immediately began humming softly to her child, rocking her as much as the limited space would allow - and cradling her very close to her heart.

She was steady in her embrace so Mark took his quiet (but watchful) seat in the corner to give them the chance to continue bonding without someone hovering right at the bedside. It was the perfect medicine...for both mother and daughter.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Steve had done his job well - and he knew it - but the toll it had taken on him was incredible. He was thankful that Oscar had been able to listen in via hidden microphone and that everything was recorded, so the debrief session was almost as short as the car ride back to National Medical. He tried not to be ashamed of the methods he'd used to extract the needed information. He had NOT kissed her; nor had he told her he loved her - which of course he did not. However, even the mere act of touching her, caressing the face of one who'd caused so much mayhem and harm, turned his stomach. He was relieved when Oscar didn't ask many questions about what he'd actually done. Steve knew it was probably a 'given' in his boss's mind, since you couldn't exactly jack up a woman prisoner and punch it out of her. Well, you _could_ - and Hansen probably would have - but it simply wasn't in Steve to do that. It still tormented his conscience that he had hit her earlier in the interrogation room. How much would he tell Jaime, if she asked? He still wasn't sure...

* * *

The scene Steve saw when he returned to National Medical both calmed him and warmed his heart. He stopped a few yards down the hall, just watching (still unseen) through the cubicle glass. Jaime was sound asleep, with her bed in a semi-propped up position...and with Becca also snoozing, curled contentedly in her arms. Mark sat nearby, for the sake of safety - and when he saw Steve, he smiled and motioned him in. To Steve, even with the (lighter) bandage on Jaime's head, his 'two ladies' had never looked more beautiful. In spite of what he had just gone through, Steve couldn't wipe the huge, happy grin from his face.

Mark spotted the ordeal in his eyes though...and nodded him into the hallway. ''They'll be okay for a few minutes - and we'll keep an eye on them,'' he said quietly. ''I heard you saw Anna again.''

''Yeah.''

''How was it?''

''I'm done; got what we needed,'' Steve told him.

''And how are _you_ doing with it? Need to talk?'' Mark offered.

Steve nodded. ''Oh yeah,'' he affirmed. ''Definitely.'' He glanced again into the cubicle, at his family. ''It can wait though.''

''They've been like that for over an hour,'' Mark told him, smiling. ''Beautiful, aren't they?''

''Exactly what I needed.''

Slowly, Becca began to stir...which immediately awakened Jaime. The two men watched as she snuggled the infant even closer in her arms before they finally joined her. ''Hi there,'' Steve greeted. ''How are my two favorite ladies tonight?'' He leaned in to first tenderly kiss his wife's lips and then his daughter's cheek.

''We're just fine,'' Jaime confirmed, jostling the baby slightly to calm her. Becca rewarded them both with a happy gurgle and a wave of her tiny fist. ''Mark,'' Jaime began, ''when do you think they can move me outta this room and upstairs...where Becca can be with me?''

''Probably not for a little while yet; after the next surgery - if the two of you and Michael decide it's necessary.''

_Michael_. He seemed to pop up in every conversation lately. ''He does great work,'' Steve affirmed. ''I was so worried that...that we'd _lost _you.''

As if on cue, Michael appeared in the doorway. He smiled too, at the sight of the tiny, happy family. Jaime reluctantly handed Becca back to Mark, to be returned to the next cubicle...for now. ''Ready for an assessment?'' the young doctor asked.

''Okay,'' Jaime agreed.

''Alright if I stay?'' Steve asked.

''Of course,'' Michael told him. He held up his pen in the now-familiar position in front of Jaime's face, but after moving it side-to-side, he also moved it in a slow circle (something new). Jaime's eyes followed it easily. ''Very, very good,'' he announced. ''Feel up to getting out of bed?''

Jaime's feet were on the floor before he could ask again, with Steve holding her waist for support.

''I need you to stand on your own for a minute or so,'' Michael requested, ''to see how steady you are.''

''Just stand?'' Jaime clarified.

''Just stand. Arms at your sides, not out, please. Very good. Now can you take a few steps? Not many - and very slowly, please. Take your time. Keep your arms at your sides, like you'd normally walk.''

Jaime did...and nearly fell. Steve caught her and looked questioningly at Michael. ''That's all for now,'' Michael confirmed.

''So...do I need more surgery?'' Jaime asked once Steve had helped her back into her bed.

Michael waited until Steve had taken a seat next to his wife (and was holding her hand for support). ''Technically, no,'' he explained. ''Jaime, you can live a perfectly 'normal' life the way you are right now...or rather, the way you will be. It may not feel like it, but you're making huge strides every day. BUT, like we've already talked about, I don't think you'll be content with that in the long run. So yes, I would recommend one more round of regeneration surgery.''

''When would you schedule it?'' Steve wondered.

''As soon as possible. Jaime, you're strong enough now to withstand another operation - and I'd like to give you back as much of yourself as is humanly possible, as soon as possible. Tomorrow...?''

Jaime looked at Steve...and nodded. No further consultation was needed; they both knew Michael was right - and they trusted his judgment.

* * *

''So I had to act like I actually _wanted_ that..._**witch**_,'' Steve summarized for Mark when Jaime was sleeping again and they finally had a chance to talk. ''To tell you the truth, it turned my stomach.''

''Understandable,'' Mark agreed. ''But it worked, right? You got everything you needed?''

''Well...yeah. But it turns out that everything that happened - especially everything Jaime has had to suffer through - it's all my fault.''

''No. No, it isn't,'' the therapist told him. ''It's the fault of a very warped mind - and nothing whatsoever to do with you.''

''But she said -''

''You know what? It doesn't matter what she said. Anna is very sick, Steve. Just remember that - and try not to take what she told you to heart.''

That would be harder than either of them could imagine...


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

While everyone else seemed to have either forgiven his young former protege or was at least willing to keep an open mind toward him, Rudy was still having _none_ of it! ''Tomorrow?'' he fumed (after calling Michael into 'his' hospital room where he still rested occasionally). ''You've already scheduled an OR for _tomorrow_?''

''Jaime's strong enough,'' Michael explained patiently. (He'd been used to Rudy's semi-rants for years...although most had never been directed at him in the past.) ''We've discussed her progress and her future potential - both with and without another round of surgery. She wants to do this; Steve wants her to do this. So I think -''

''What you think, _Doctor_, is that you want to ride in on a white horse and save her from an uncertain future - so you can be seen as a hero again, instead of a rapist or a killer!''

Michael bristled; Rudy had gone too far. ''That is not fair,'' he said very quietly. ''I would never jeopardize my patient - any patient - for some misplaced sense of glory! Never.''

''Not even a patient you were once in love with? Hell...one that you're _still_ in love with?'' Rudy shot back.

''And you should know me better than that! My personal feelings have no bearing in this - or any other - case!''

''I thought I did know you Michael - until you tried to kill me! Not to mention what you did to Jaime!''

Rudy's words were like a slap in the face - and one Michael knew he deserved. ''I'm doing the best I can to make it up to her,'' Michael said softly. ''With you...I don't know what to say or do, except to tell you that it just isn't in me to want - or need - to harm anyone anymore. I know how it happened...but I can't accept it. I don't expect you to, either. What I did was beyond forgiveness...and I'm just grateful for this second chance.''

''You do realize,'' Rudy told him (calming down just a bit), ''that if I'd had any input in the decision, you wouldn't be here at all right now.''

''I know that. And maybe Savidge could've helped Jaime,'' Michael admitted, ''at least to some degree. Rudy...I know we'll never have the relationship we once did, but I want to do whatever I can to repair this. Would you like to come with me in the morning, when I prep Jaime for surgery?''

Rudy nodded - and surprised even himself by extending his hand to shake Michael's. It was a start.

* * *

I wish we could keep her with us, right now,'' Jaime said wistfully as she handed Becca to Steve for his turn at a cuddle. ''I know it's...um...ICU - but it's Rudy's hospital. Couldn't he break the rules, just this once? She's so little...''

''You can have her here with you tonight,'' Mark soothed, ''until it's time for you to sleep. I'd imagine Michael will be bringing a sedative, so you're well-rested for tomorrow. But after that, you'll likely be out completely for a day or two, so -

''I'll watch over Becca,'' Steve promised. ''I've been trying to make it in there for all of her feedings when I haven't been working.''

''You've...been working?'' Jaime questioned (apparently forgetting her happy announcement of the same earlier that morning).

''Yeah, but not much. I had to question the Kingsleys' younger sister. It's all over with now. I'll be here with you and Becca all day tomorrow; I promise.''

The answer seemed enough for Jaime. For now, she was content to hum at Becca as she watched Steve cradle her so tenderly in his huge, strong arms. She leaned toward where he sat (very close to her bed) and wrapped her own arm around their daughter as well. Becca cooed...and both of her parents joyfully cooed back at her. For the moment, life was good.

* * *

Later, after Jaime was asleep, Michael was in his office going over the next day's surgery with Doctor Corinth and their teams - and Mark was in his office...with Steve. ''It's still eating at you,'' Mark noted, ''what you had to do today.''

''It shows that much, Doc?''

''I doubt Jaime noticed, but I can see it in your eyes - and the slump of your shoulders. Not to mention your general demeanor. So what exactly happened in there? You've already told me how you got the confession -''

''And every bit of that felt SO disloyal to Jaime,'' Steve moaned.

''You did what you had to do; nothing more, nothing less,'' the therapist told him. ''And don't forget that I'm familiar with how that 'type' of interrogation usually works. At least you got what you needed without having to physically manhandle, slam or hit her.''

''Um...Doc...? I...ah...I _did_ hit her,'' Steve said, almost inaudibly. ''I've never - ever - in my life hit a woman before. Not in anger or for any other reason. But...I hit her.''

''And right before that happened?'' Mark queried.

Steve's face blanched at the memory. ''She kissed me. She threatened Becca and Jaime - and I almost lost it then but the wall got it instead.''

''Then what happened?''

''She tried to kiss me again - and God help me, Doc..._I slapped her_!''

''I think you held your temper a lot longer than most men would have,'' Mark acknowledged.

''Still; something like that...it should never have happened.''

''Now tell me the rest,'' Mark prodded gently. He could just _feel_ there was still more troubling Steve than he was letting on. ''Or would you rather let it fester inside and get worse, to the point where you lose control of yourself again, in more ways than one?''

''Okay. Alright. You really wanna know?''

''Yes. And even more than that,'' Mark explained, ''I don't want you to have to carry it around inside.''

''It's my fault, Doc. All of it.''

''Excuse me?''

''Michael trying to kill Jaime...when he...he _raped_ her in the cabin...when Michael tried to kill Rudy...everything - all the torture and misery everyone went through - it was all because of me! It wasn't Michael's fault...or Rudy's or even the OSI's. Jaime's in that hospital bed going through the biggest challenge of her life because of ME!''

Mark could see they would have a long, difficult road to travel...

* * *

''Do you have any questions for either of us, Jaime...or Steve?'' Michael asked the next morning when he and Rudy arrived in the cubicle to prep her for surgery. Somehow, he and Rudy had reached enough of an understanding (or at least, a truce) that the older doctor was going to be assisting Michael in the regeneration surgery, along with Doctor Corinth.

''How long...before I wake up?'' Jaime asked.

''We'll keep you in electro-sleep for at least 48 hours,'' Michael explained, ''until I'm sure your condition has stabilized. It's safer than sedation and easier to bring you out of when the time comes.''

''And will you know right away if it was successful?'' Steve wondered.

''I'll have some idea, from how the surgical therapy itself proceeds - but most of the assessment can't begin until Jaime is fully awake.''

Rudy took a step closer. ''Michael has informed you both of the risks involved in this procedure?'' he asked gently.

''Of course,'' Steve answered for both of them. He and Jaime were well aware that the procedure could fail entirely. It was possible no new functions would be restored; she could even potentially lose part of what she'd already gained, if things went badly. And if things took a true turn for the worse...Jaime could even die. Still, they were willing to take the risk, in order to try and give her back the full and complete life she'd always enjoyed.

_They were ready._


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Death didn't frighten Jaime; not anymore. She'd come so very close to it, many times - and she had even (for all intents and purposes and by medical definition) actually _died_...so it no longer frightened her. What did frighten her, _terribly_, was leaving her husband and daughter alone in the world - not of her own dying, but simply of no longer _being there_. So the morning of her surgery, before she'd allow Michael to give her the first shot that would make her sleepy (in preparation for putting her 'under'), Jaime had one request. She wanted to see Becca and to give her the early morning bottle. The doctors (other than Mark, in his quiet corner) made themselves scarce to give her at least a few minutes of privacy.

''Gonna be a few days before I get to do this again, Sweetie,'' she told her daughter in a clear soft voice. ''But Mama won't be gone from you for very long. I promise you that.'' Instead of merely humming to the child, Jaime broke into the soft, lilting sounds of the Irish Lullaby that had been sung to her as a small child - and that she used now with Becca. Then, with tears in her eyes, she handed the baby back to Mark, to be returned to the nursery next door. With a long, steady gaze into Steve's face for strength, she clasped his hand and nodded to the doctors who waited just outside the cubicle.

''I'm ready,'' she told them.

When the three doctors (Michael, Rudy and Corinth) returned to Jaime's bedside, they could see that she was trembling. They weren't aware that it was more from emotion than from fear, but they all wanted to do their best to allay what she was feeling. ''Why don't you hold her, Steve?'' Michael suggested as he injected the pre-surgical meds into Jaime's IV line.

Steve perched himself next to Jaime on the bed and took her into his arms. He could feel her body shaking as she fought off the effects of the sedatives...and his heart broke for her. In truth, he was feeling many of the same fears and emotions that Jaime was - about Becca losing her mother and Steve himself losing the only woman he'd ever truly loved. He was also tortured by the knowledge (a certainty at least in his own mind) that what Jaime was going through right now was completely and entirely his fault. He'd led Anja on, back in the Soviet Union (he'd _played_ her) and his actions then meant his wife had to call upon an incredible reserve of strength and courage, just to face what was ahead for her...not to mention dealing with the aftereffects.

''Easy, Sweetheart,'' he coaxed as she leaned into him. ''Let the medicine do its work; don't fight it. Just close your eyes...that's it. I'll be right by your side when you wake up. I promise.'' With one hand, he rubbed her inner (left) elbow in the gesture that had calmed her since she was a small child. Slowly, Jaime's trembling stopped and her eyes (finally) fluttered closed - after one more longing, loving look into the face of her husband.

Steve watched the doctors carefully move her onto the gurney...and silent tears began coursing down his cheek as he watched them wheel her away. ''So...let's talk,'' Mark suggested, rising to put a gentle, reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder.

''I should go down there...and wait,'' Steve protested.

''It will likely take half the day - and there won't be news for hours. I think some talk would do you good.'' He pulled his chair across the room to sit directly next to Steve. Tears were so unusual for this patient that Mark almost cried in empathy. ''What worries you most right now?''

''I...don't want to lose her, Doc,'' Steve managed to choke out.

''Jaime's a strong woman. She's a fighter; you've said so yourself. And she's already withstood this regeneration once - not to mention the initial operation when she was shot.''

''I know...I just can't help worrying. He's cutting into her _brain_!''

''And it's been his life's work. He knows what he's doing,'' Mark reassured Steve.

''He's also tried to _kill_ her...''

* * *

This time, Oscar took his offered seat in the Operating Room's theater - and Rudy took his place beside Michael. He had to admire his former protege's adeptness at cutting only exactly where needed with such practiced, well-executed strokes. Rudy watched closely, offering assistance as requested, while the younger man administered a therapy that he was probably the only person on Earth who could provide. Rudy was stunned at the inventiveness - and at the genius (and heavy amount of study and experimentation) that had all led to this very moment.

Jaime was responding well. Her vitals remained steady for the first few hours and everyone who'd been very nearly holding their collective breath began to slowly relax. Then...

''I've got a bleeder!'' Michael announced urgently.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Somewhere in her subconscious mind, Jaime was hearing strains of the old, favorite lullaby. _Too-ra, loo-ra, loo-ra..._ - but she was no longer singing it to her daughter. The lovely, lilting melody was in _her mother's voice_! Mesmerized, Jaime tried to follow the comforting sound...toward what she hoped were her mother's waiting arms. But...where was she? Was she..._dead_? It was so dark; where was the bright tunnel of light everyone always talked about? Jaime listened closely and could hear her mother still singing to her - and she blindly followed the music...moving further and further away from the body on the operating table...

* * *

''Steve, whatever happened between you and Anna in the past,'' Mark began, ''even if you slept with her -''

''Let's not even go there, Doc,'' Steve interrupted.

''What I'm saying is that even if it did, you would still not be at fault for what's happened to Jaime. You need to know that - and _believe _it!''

They talked for awhile - about the things Anja had said and about what Steve had done to get the confession. They went for coffee and then back to Mark's office to talk some more. Steve hadn't realized just how much he'd needed the help...until he'd finally begun talking. Suddenly, he sat bolt upright in his chair.

''Oh God!'' he gasped.

His change of demeanor was so startling that Mark rose to help him. ''What is it?''

''They...they're losing her!'' Steve jumped from his seat and dove for the door so quickly that he tripped and banged his head - _hard_ - on the door as he opened it. He immediately sank to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

Jaime looked back behind her, expecting to see herself lying on the operating table (as she had when she'd 'died' before) because instinctively she knew something had happened to her again...but this time, all she saw was darkness in every direction...although she could still hear her mother's voice.

_Too-ra, loo-ra, loo-ra - hush now, don't you cry..._

Suddenly, she felt a hand in her own and knew from the tender feeling who it was. ''_Steve?_ What...how did you get here?''

''I'm not sure,'' he told her, very confused. ''Where are we?''

''I think...I'm dying.''

''I hit my head,'' he explained. ''Must have been bad, if I'm here.''

''Do you hear that?'' Jaime asked softly.

_Too-ra, loo-ra, loo-ra..._

''Is that...your mother?'' Steve asked slowly.

''Yeah.'' Jaime was surprised by how calm she felt. (Perhaps it was because of the song.) ''I think she wants me to go to her, Steve. And...I think it's time.''

''Except, if I'm here too - does that mean...we're _both_ going?'' Steve was not quite as calm.

''I don't know. Are you - maybe - here to take me back?''

* * *

''Clamp!'' Michael said urgently. ''And I need more suction; can't see what I'm doing here!''

Rudy quickly moved in to help. The line on the monitor was flat - and wailing almost mournfully. They worked together in near-perfect synchronicity - the mentor and his former protege - for several minutes and yet their efforts appeared fruitless.

''She's...gone, Michael,'' Rudy choked out in his grief.

''The hell she is; we're not done here yet!''

* * *

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li...  
Oft in dreams I wander  
To that cot again,  
I feel her arms a-huggin' me  
As when she held me then. _

''It sounds so beautiful, Steve!'' Jaime exclaimed, squeezing his hand. ''So...peaceful. I wish I could see her!'' Her mother's voice sounded closer now, but still all Jaime and Steve could see was darkness so black that they felt blind.

''She always made the best cookies in the world,'' Steve remembered. ''Maybe she still does.'' The song was beginning to calm him now too - and pulled them both forward.

''Steve...when I died before, there was a light - just like people always say there is - and then I saw my mom and dad...and Puzzles. They were waiting for me. Why is it so dark?''

''Maybe because this isn't right. This isn't how it's supposed to be...''

* * *

The best doctors at National - the ones he'd normally call for help - were in the OR, working on Jaime, but Mark watched as the very best physicians from the Emergency Room began to work on Steve.

''I don't understand it,'' he said (mostly to himself). ''He only hit his head.''

''He hit it just hard enough - and in the wrong place,'' one of the doctors said over his shoulder as he helped tend to the stricken man.

Mark stared at the offending door. There hadn't even been any blood! _What the hell was happening?_

* * *

_Too-ra, loo-ra-, loo-ra..._

Suddenly, Steve stopped in his tracks - holding Jaime there with him. ''Listen...'' he whispered.

From somewhere in the abyss that surrounded them, they could hear a second sound: _Becca crying!_

''We can't leave her,'' Steve said slowly.

The pull toward her mother was so strong...but this 'pull' was nearly irresistible. ''Steve...who would take care of her? We...we can't leave her all alone!''

''She needs us,'' Steve agreed. He was already stepping back in the other direction...but Jaime (still with a grip on his hand) stood stock-still. ''Sweetheart,'' Steve said softly, ''we have to go back.''

''But...my mother,'' Jaime whispered. As she initially allowed Steve to pull her backward, the comforting, inviting song was beginning to grow fainter. ''Steve...I...I have to go.''

''Becca needs us; we can't leave her. Not now. Maybe that's why it's so dark. This isn't really our time. _She __needs__ us, Jaime_!''

''She needs one of us,'' Jaime said almost sadly...as she let go of Steve's hand.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

''It's not working'' Rudy said softly. ''She's lost too much blood. You did your best but...she's gone, Michael...''

''NO!'' Michael insisted with vehemence. ''I'm NOT pronouncing her; not yet. Get me more suction - and HURRY!''

Rudy gently put his hand on the younger surgeon's arm. ''I feel the same way you do...but it's time to let her go.''

Michael shook his head and then bent over his patient with renewed intensity. ''I am in charge this time - and I'm NOT pronouncing her! Now _let's do this!_''

* * *

Steve's legs were longer - and even in blinding darkness he reached Jaime's side easily and grabbed her arm. (He could still _feel_ her arm. That meant they weren't dead - yet - didn't it?) Whether real or just a message from the netherworld they seemed to be caught in, Becca's crying became louder and more strident.

''We can't leave her alone!'' Jaime cried out.

''Of course we can't,'' Steve told her.

''That's why...you _have_ to go back! We can't let her be an orphan, Steve!''

''Wrong; that's why WE have to go back, Sweetheart. She needs _both_ of us!''

_Too-ra, loo-ra, loo-ra...that's an Irish Lullaby..._

''Steve, please...'' Jaime begged.

Steve grabbed her and whirled her around in the direction their daughter's cries seemed to be coming from. ''Hear that? Right now, she's all that matters, Jaime. Well...and YOU, of course. Please...'' He took her hand and began walking back toward the sound that meant _**LIFE**_. This time, Jaime followed him without a fight or argument.

* * *

''She's back!'' Rudy announced jubilantly. The sudden BLIP of the monitor made his exclamation unneeded...but he couldn't help himself. ''My God, Michael; you got her back!''

The bleeding in Jaime's brain had slowed to a near-stop. Better still, there appeared to be no clots. ''Now let's finish what we came here to do,'' Michael said with determination.

''Are you sure you still can?''

''Just as sure as I was that we could bring her back,'' he said quietly, already re-starting the Regeneration procedure. ''Besides, I don't want to put her through this a third time.''

* * *

Steve's monitors (he'd been moved to the ER where they could work more efficiently than on the floor of Mark's office) also reflected his 'return'. ''Thank you, God...'' Mark murmured, not even realizing he'd said it. Almost immediately, the injured man opened his eyes.

''Jaime...?'' he whispered. ''How's...Jaime?''

''I'll go and find out for you, if I can,'' Mark promised, patting Steve's shoulder. He headed toward the big double doors of the Operating Room where a nurse was just emerging, looking stunned. ''What happened in there?'' he asked. ''Is Jaime alright?''

''We...lost her,'' the nurse began...and Mark's heart sank. ''But somehow, Doctor Marchetti got her back. He just wouldn't give up - and he got her back. He's working on the regeneration now.''

''That's wonderful news; thank you! And I'll relay it to Colonel Austin right away!''

''Gotta...see...Jaime...'' Steve was insisting when Mark returned to the Emergency Room. He gently helped the attending doctors ease the big man back onto the gurney.

''She's okay, Steve,'' Mark affirmed. ''I just spoke to a nurse.''

''But she..._died_...''

Mark didn't even question how he knew that. ''She's okay now; Michael brought her back and everything is on schedule again. She's going to be fine. Now you need to rest so you can be there when she wakes up, like you promised her.''

''You're not...lying to make me feel better?'' Steve asked.

''You should know me better than that.''

''Okay. I'll rest...for now.'' He finally extended his left arm for the IV that would give him a mild sedative. ''Kinda got a headache...anyhow...''

* * *

Steve was able to keep his promise. He was by Jaime's side when she came out of the anesthetic...albeit in a wheelchair. ''Welcome back, Sweetheart,'' he said softly, with a loving smile. ''And _thank you_ for coming back with me.''

Jaime was still weak and very groggy; the best she could manage for now was a lopsided smile - and a light squeeze of her husband's hand.

''And Becca's right next door, just like before,'' he told her in a soothing voice. ''She wasn't crying. She slept the whole time. It was just her way of calling us back where we belong - _both_ of us.''

No one in the room questioned what he was telling her. For now, it was enough that the Austins were able to be together, holding each other's hands...and _smiling_.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Anja no longer strained at her bonds. The shackles were lighter and longer now, still preventing escape attempts but with no one scheduled to visit or interrogate her, the tighter chains were no longer necessary. And she no longer needed to struggle; she had achieved her goals - _in spades_. Austin had been miserable when he left her; she'd heard the call for an ambulance as she'd been led away. And yet, that wasn't the best part - not by a long shot! So she had told a few little white lies - and one or two that were not so little. What was the harm in that? Well...if she had her way, there would be _plenty_ of harm in that!

* * *

''Russ, it's very hard to help you if you won't talk to me,'' Mark persisted. They'd already been at loggerheads for almost half an hour. ''There are NO charges being pressed; NO ONE blames you! If you work with me, we can get through this. Who knows - you can probably even get your job back!''

''Don't want it...''

''Of course you do. It's your life. It's what you've always -''

''No,'' Russ said in a flat, dispirited voice.

''Mind telling me why?'' Mark probed.

''Don't want to carry a gun again. Not ever. I...can't be trusted.''

''That's something you feel in your own mind, but -''

''BINGO!'' Russ said miserably.

''Well, let's work on that, starting from there,'' Mark suggested - but his very stubborn (and extremely traumatized) patient had turned to face the wall and would say no more.

* * *

Steve and Jaime lay quietly in their adjoining beds, still holding hands, even as Jaime drifted in and out of consciousness. While Steve's condition didn't really warrant a stay in the ICU, their doctors felt it was important that they remain together. In the tiny cubicle, there was room for little else except the beds, but the Austins were each other's best medicine. Jaime still had not spoken a word, but that was to be expected. She was still primarily in electrosleep, only being allowed to rouse occasionally (and very, very briefly) to check her vitals. Each time, her first reaction had been to look toward Steve, to make certain he was still right there beside her. And each time, he'd responded with a loving smile and a soft reassurance about their daughter. Whatever it was they'd been through together (or, more likely, believed they'd been through), it had served to unite them even closer than they'd ever been united before.

Michael watched his patient closely, both while she was sleeping and when he allowed her to awaken. He was far too modest to accept the word 'miracle' that Rudy had been tossing around; he was just overjoyed that Jaime was still with them..and that he and Rudy had reached at least a temporary sort of peace with each other. It really did seem like - once again - Jaime had died on the operating table. Technically, she had, but for most of his life Michael had refused to consider failure an option...and failure with this patient was simply unthinkable!

Her vital signs were very low; too low, really - but considering what she'd just been through, any vitals at all were encouraging. And Michael did note (from the monitor readings and his own observations) that she seemed to strengthen in every way when she was able to turn her head and see Steve lying beside her. He knew the only thing that might possibly strengthen Jaime even more was having Becca close by, instead of on the other side of a glass wall. That could only happen once she was moved upstairs to the Third Floor (in what she'd often jokingly referred to as her 'second' home'). For his patient's sake, Michael would ensure that this happened for her - for all three of them - as soon as it was safe and feasible.

* * *

Oscar sat behind the desk that was 'his' at National Medical, listening to the tapes and reading the transcripts of Steve's interrogation of Anna Kingsley. Naturally, he'd remained outside the OR and then the ICU until he knew that his friends/employees were safe but then - as always - duty called. The longer he stared at the pages, the more he was convinced of one thing: _There was something wrong here!_

Anna had given up the information far too easily. In their ride to National, Steve didn't seem to realize that the reason Oscar wasn't debriefing him more thoroughly on his methods was because he'd been on the other side of the observation window almost the entire time. He'd seen what Steve had done...but even though Anna had appeared to relish every moment, after so many years of plotting, building and putting her plans into operation, would she really have given it all up for some hair play and a nuzzle to her ear? _Really? _Yet...she did. WHY?!


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Jaime could still hear strains of her mother's lullaby while deep in her electrosleep...and it still called to her. She longed to feel her mother's embrace again - just one more time - but she knew if she chose that route, there would be no going back. Becca would be without her mother and Steve would be...raising their daughter all alone. In her dreams (if you could call them that in electrosleep), Jaime could see - and hear - her mother, as plain as if she was sitting directly across from her.

''Mom...why are you singing _that song_? Why now? Becca needs me!''

''_And so does Steve_,'' came the answer Jaime thought she could hear.

''Then...why?!''

''_Because, my darling, this was __**supposed**__ to be your time. I didn't want you to be frightened_.''

''Then...why am I still here? I mean, I'm glad I am but - ''

''_And so am I. It is because of that young doctor, you know._''

''Michael? He...saved me?''

''_He did. Others would have given up. And there was no blaming them. You were __gone__._''

''Mom? Do you see...um...everything that happens to me?''

''_Of course I do...because I choose to!_''

''Then you know...what he did? That he hurt me...so badly?''

''_Yes. I also know what you might not; at least, not yet. He was not responsible for those actions. It is terribly hard, I know, but try to see that he is not the one to blame. And he IS the one who just saved you. It WAS your time_.''

''Was it Steve's time too?''

''_No; Steve was sent to bring you back, so that once again you would not be afraid. It was the only way to turn you back around, and it worked_.''

''But Mom, why did -''

''_I must go now, my darling. Just remember, your family loves and needs you desperately. That is why you were allowed to go back. I love you too - and I will see you again one day_.''

''Mom! Wait!''

The 'dream' was over, as Michael gently touched Jaime's hand to rouse her back to consciousness. ''Hi there!'' he said brightly, with Rudy looking over his shoulder (and bringing back memories for Jaime of when she'd awakened from her first regeneration surgery, four years ago in Colorado).

''Hi...'' she answered weakly. (Her eyes opened wider with the realization that she could talk.) ''How long...asleep?'' she asked.

''It's been five days since your surgery,'' Michael told her. ''We felt you should rest a little longer than planned.''

''Because...I died...'' she whispered.

''Probably enough talking for now,'' Rudy told her. ''You're still very weak. But if you turn your head, we've got a little surprise for you.''

Indeed, they did. Seated in a chair on the other side of her bed was Steve - with Becca in his arms. Jaime smiled, tried to reach for the baby and discovered that _she couldn't move!_ She looked up at Michael with terror in her eyes.

''That's perfectly normal for the stage you're at,'' he reassured her. ''Your third heavy-duty surgery in a rather short time-span; your body needs time to adjust. Please don't worry.''

Feeling better for the moment, Jaime turned her head again (at least she could do that, she thought) and gazed at her family. _This_ was the reason she'd been 'allowed' to return...and she was so very grateful for that!

* * *

Anja smiled happily to herself. She'd known for years that she'd somehow end up this way - in custody with no hope of freedom, ever again - but it had all been worth it. She had lied through her teeth - and Austin (and the others, whom she was sure had been listening in) had never even realized it! Austin had actually _believed_ her when she'd told him he'd been the trigger that had set off her rage - and caused her to put her plans into motion! HA! Life without ever seeing the light of day was well worth the misery that 'little white lie' would cost him! His sweet little wife was battling for her life...and Austin thought it was his own fault! How utterly _delicious_!

Her true motive should've been obvious - IF they'd had any real intelligence and forethought, that is! Marchetti had stolen away what by all rights _should_ have been hers! Anja had worked hard nearly her entire life to prepare for one single goal - that damned internship - and the OSI's precious Golden Boy had taken it away from her! Of course, he deserved to _suffer_ - and suffer deeply - for that! She had made certain of it; she had even managed to turn him into a rapist!

The OSI's so-called Intelligence was absolutely NO intelligence at all!


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Steve understood immediately - and held Becca closer so Jaime could kiss her cheek. Then he decided it was best - for now - to take her next door, back to the nursery so Jaime's assessment and treatment could begin. While he was gone, Jaime turned to look at Michael again, trying her best to look at him with new (or was it old, previous) eyes? It was so hard for her to see him as one of the 'good guys' after everything he'd done to her! And yet, she and Steve had talked about it and now her mother had confirmed it. Both of the people Jaime trusted most (one living, one deceased) had told her the same thing; maybe it really was true, after all. And...he had saved her life. Michael flashed a warm (but fully professional) smile back at her.

''Thank...you...'' she managed.

''Young Lady,'' Rudy reminded her, ''plenty of time to talk later. You rest that voice for now.''

''But...'' she persisted (still looking at Michael), ''you...brought me...back. Thank...you...''

Michael smiled again and nodded. ''I was just happy to be able to do that. No 'thank you' required.''

With Steve temporarily occupied in getting Becca settled (and contented) back in her crib, Rudy took the other side of the bed and each physician cast their eyes onto one of Jaime's hands - Rudy on the right and Michael on the left. ''We need you to try to wriggle your fingers for us, Honey,'' Rudy requested gently. ''Nothing else; just your fingers. First, your left hand; can you try that for us, please?''

Michael's face gave nothing away, but there was absolutely no movement in even the very tips of Jaime's left fingers.

''Now try the right,'' Rudy instructed. The doctors both knew it was far less likely for the bionics to move if her flesh-and-blood body could not, but in many ways they were treading new ground here; it was worth a try.

''There's..._nothing_...is there?'' Jaime asked miserably (with tears in her eyes).

Michael patted her shoulder. ''It may take hours, days or possibly even a little longer before movement returns,'' he explained. ''You can turn your head, so that's a good sign. Absolutely no need to worry.'' He nodded to Rudy, who took a syringe from his pocket and injected it into Jaime's IV. Within minutes, she was sound asleep - and the doctors convened in the hallway, along with Mark Conrad (who, as always, had been watching quietly from his corner).

''I'd have liked to have seen movement in at least her left fingertips,'' Michael told them quietly. ''No need to panic or even worry just yet...but I'll keep a very close eye.''

''We all will,'' Rudy agreed. He found he suddenly trusted Michael's judgment and abilities again, far more than he had even that very morning...and yet, as loath as he might have been to admit it, there remained just the smallest doubt...

* * *

Steve spent some extra time with Becca (since she was just about due for a bottle), to give the doctors a chance to examine Jaime without his interference. He would speak with Rudy about it when they were done. Truth be told, he hadn't felt he could watch the exam (with its potentially unfavorable results) as the guilt he already felt was very nearly crushing him. He was the reason this was happening to her!

''Mama's going to be holding you again real soon,'' he told Becca, trying to reassure himself since he knew the infant was really only enjoying the sound of his voice and not yet registering the words. He was grateful to have Jaime back in whatever capacity it was that she was able to reach; only he knew with absolute certainty how close it had been...how very nearly Jaime had gone toward the sound of her mother's voice. Maybe he would tell Mark about it one day, but maybe he wouldn't; the therapist might think he'd lost his mind!

In the meantime, all he had to think about as he fed their daughter was the look of complete devastation on Jaime's face when she'd realized she couldn't move...

* * *

Anja had not been expecting any further visitors until (probably) her arraignment - so it was a complete surprise when two guards came in and exchanged her looser shackles for the more restrictive ones. She didn't have to wait long after that.

''Hello, Anja,'' the voice greeted from the doorway as the door itself was closed and locked behind him.

''Mr. Goldman! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?'' she purred, completely unafraid of his power or his stature.

''We need to have a little talk,'' Oscar announced. ''I know for a fact that you didn't tell my operative the truth last week.''

Anja laughed derisively. ''And you know this...how?''

''I've been in Intelligence for too many years to count. I know your type - and you gave up your so-called information to him far too easily.''

''What can I tell you? He's a charming man.''

''And I'm J. Edgar Hoover!'' Oscar thundered. ''You have two choices; you can start talking to me _**right now**_...or I'll send someone in here who I can guarantee will be far less pleasant and comfortable to deal with!''

If necessary, Oscar would pull every string and call in every favor he needed to get Jack Hansen released just long enough to interrogate this woman, if she refused to cooperate.

''I have nothing to say to you - or to anyone, for that matter. Do your worst, Mr. Goldman!'' she chortled.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

''Mom...I'm scared...'' Jaime began (silently, in her head) as the sedative took hold. She knew now that her mother could see and hear her, and even though at this point she knew it was unlikely she'd get an answer, sometimes everyone needs their mom...and for Jaime this was certainly one of those times. ''I...I can't move, Mom. What good are all these millions of dollars in circuitry and having some of the best doctors in the world if I can't even move? I'm just...so scared!'' Even though she received no (verbal) response, Jaime suddenly felt warm all over - and _comforted_ - as though she was being held, hugged and (most of all) _understood_.

If she truly couldn't move - and stayed that way - Jaime would learn to deal with it. She was tough...and her mother's words had given her new strength. She was there (instead of embracing her parents, Puzzles and others who had gone on before her) for a reason...and she _would_ figure it out! She had died - _**died!**_ - and apparently it had been 'her time' to do so! Her mother had said she was allowed to go back because her family needed her so badly...but who had ever died without someone needing (and missing) them desperately? _What was it she was intended to do?_

* * *

''Oscar, maybe I need to lock you back into the Second Floor!'' Mark stormed. ''Because you have clearly _lost your mind!_''

''I _need_ him, Mark! No one else can interrogate a prisoner like he can!''

''I assume you're talking about Anna Kingsley?''

''Of course,'' Oscar told him.

''So you want me to sign off on a release -''

''A _temporary_ release!''

''Whatever sort of release; you want me to let a clearly unstable man out of my care so he can go and beat the hell out of a prisoner - a_woman_ prisoner! I'm sorry, I canNOT in good conscience agree to that.''

''I can get a court order, if necessary,'' Oscar threatened, ''but I'd rather go through regular channels.''

''Care to at least tell me _WHY?_'' Mark questioned angrily.

''Her confession to Steve; I don't trust a word she said. Mark, she gave it up too easily, almost like it was some sort of web she was spinning to catch him in...I just don't trust her. And I tried questioning her myself. Got absolutely nothing. Not a word. _I __**need**__ Jack Hansen!_''

''And you expect him to get information for you about mind control when he refuses to even acknowledge the possibility?''

Oscar grimaced. ''Then he can question her about what she told Steve - because I don't believe a word of what she said...and the guilt is probably killing him right now!''

Mark had to keep confidentiality, but he knew Oscar was right on that point. Steve's guilt was weighing so heavily on him that he could barely function - and every time he saw Jaime the way she was now, it got even worse for him. ''If I did agree to sign, there would have to be conditions involved. _Strict_ conditions!''

''Name them,'' Oscar said urgently.

''First of all, I'd be going along to watch and listen with you. If things go too far, I _will_ put a stop to it.'' Mark announced.

''Define 'too far'.''

''I don't want any bloodshed.''

''Agreed.''

''When it's over, he returns back here, under my direct supervision until I - and only I - deem him ready for full release. In other words, this is to be your one and only shot.''

''So you're saying you want me to give up my right to agree - or disagree - with his true discharge, when it happens,'' Oscar summarized.

''If it happens.,'' Mark pointed out.

''Alright; I'll do it - because I really do need him, Mark. And I need him today. _Now_, if possible.''

He may not even be willing to go,'' Mark pointed out, ''but okay; let's go talk to him.''

* * *

Anja was surprised once again when the guards opened her cell door and without a word disconnected her shackles from the wall, led her outside to a waiting car and transported her back to the OSI's interrogation room. They then removed all of her shackles, instead only handcuffing her behind her back. _Goldman hadn't been lying_, she thought. _But what the __**hell**__ is he up to? Because it ain't gonna work! If I dealt with the KGB, I can deal with whatever the idiots at the OSI might try to throw at me!_

They allowed her to stew like that for a good half an hour before the interrogation room door opened - and then was slammed shut at full force. ''You're dealing with ME now, lady!'' Jack Hansen stormed. ''I'm not as polite as Oscar Goldman or as easily led as you managed to make Colonel Austin!''

''Ooh...should I be scared?'' Anja laughed.

''You'd better be. If you aren't, then you're crazier than they tell me that I am. So...let's _talk!_


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

''Do you have any idea who I am?'' Hansen thundered.

Anja smiled sweetly at him. ''How could I forget one of my most useful pawns, Mr. Hansen? None of the FUN of the last year or so would've been possible without your help!''

Jack reached out and slapped her face, hard enough to make her gasp involuntarily. ''Lies will get you nowhere! Not with me - and not with Colonel Austin!''

''Ah...but he was SO good during our nights together!'' Anja licked her lips seductively. ''I'll bet you know all the tricks too...don't you? How long has it been since you've been with a _real_ woman?''

He hadn't intended to get fully physical this early in their meeting, but she was clearly 'pushing his buttons'...so Jack reached out and forced her to her feet, slamming her against the wall.

''Oh. Ouch,'' she said sarcastically. ''Is that really the best you've got?''

''Don't even try to go there!'' he warned. He slammed her down onto the thin strip of metal that passed for a bench and after attaching both of her arms to a belly chain, re-secured her hands in the front...then Hansen jerked Anja back to her feet and held her close enough that she could feel his angry breath in her face. ''Everything you told Austin yesterday was a lie, wasn't it?'' Anja merely grinned at him, unabashed and unafraid.

Jack knew enough of this woman's history to know that although she had never been a part of the KGB, she had often done work for them - and thus had probably been privy to the ways they expressed their displeasure when someone failed them. Unfortunately for Anja, Jack did not share Steve or Oscar's compunction about roughing up a female prisoner who refused to talk. A prisoner was a prisoner to him; no difference. The OSI had their methods (which sometimes worked) and he had his own. He reached down and grabbed Anja's chin in his hand, squeezing hard enough to leave a mark.

''Police brutality,'' she giggled. ''I like that!''

''It might be...if we were the police.'' Still squeezing her chin tightly, he shoved his hand backward until her head hit the concrete wall. ''There was NO mind control machine and we both know it - don't we?'' he demanded.

Anja continued to smile. ''Maybe one of us believes that; one of us would be so, SO wrong! Where do you think I got my information? How do you think I knew every move that every single person I'd targeted at that hospital was making?'' She laughed, even as her head hit the wall again. ''From you, of course. You were the perfect informant...and I thank you for that.''

Outside the interrogation room, Oscar and Mark watched and listened. If nothing else, perhaps this information would help Jack get a handle on what had happened to him. Hopefully, he would still be able to move on to what Anja/Anna had told Steve. (Could he hold it together long enough?)

Jack jerked her to her feet with the use of the belly chain and began to shake her. ''You're _lying!_'' he insisted. ''You lied to Austin last week and you're lying to me! But the lies stop NOW!'' With one strong, fluid motion, he threw the evil woman against the far wall, hard enough to send her crashing to the floor.

The infuriating smile never left her face. ''So I told Austin a little white lie or two. I also told him a lot of truth - and I have told you no lies at all. The fun for your Colonel will be in sorting truth from falsehoods...''

* * *

Steve jiggled Becca in his lap as he sat at Jaime's bedside, watching her sleep. It had been a week since her surgery and almost 48 hours since they'd first fully awakened her...and there had still been no movement except for the slight turning of her head. Had she _really_ been talking to her mother while they were...wherever it was that they'd been? If so, Steve wished Ann had been able to offer some real _answers_. Would this be how Jaime would live out the rest of her life? Steve would _never_ leave her - of course he wouldn't! And yet...would Jaime herself ever be able to leave the hospital, if she remained in this state? She was still _Jaime_, determined, hopeful - and _stubborn_. Steve knew that the frustration of her effort to produce even the slightest movement was nearly crushing her spirit...just as the knowledge that this was all his fault was crushing him.

Becca gurgled happily and touched her daddy's face. Steve responded with a kiss to her forehead and more of the jiggle/rocking that she loved so well. He was so wrapped up in keeping the infant quiet and content that he didn't notice at first that Jaime was awake and watching them...with tears streaming down her face.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Just over a hour later, Anja sat/laid slumped in a corner, her head lolled back against the concrete wall and her lips swollen (but not bloodied, as Hansen had kept his promise to Mark). A dinner tray was wheeled in - with only one plate. Jack smiled at Anja, took his meal over to the table and sat down. He knew that she'd eaten little to no lunch during the time she'd spent with Oscar, so the aroma of roast beef and gravy and fresh bread (he'd specified as tempting/torturing a meal as they could possibly come up with) made her salivate with hunger.

''YOU don't move,'' he instructed. He took special joy in savoring every bite - and in remarking several times how wonderful it was. He took his time, letting her senses take in what was happening - and letting her body feel what had already happened. Then he uncovered the smaller bowl in the corner of the tray and held it up so she could see it, moving closer so it was directly in front of her battered face. ''Chocolate cake with _real_ whipped cream icing,'' he chuckled. ''Want a bite?''

Anja looked longingly at the offered treat but pursed her lips painfully and glared at him.

''How about the whole thing? It's yours if you want it...for just a little bit of information'.''

''What...do you want?'' she asked slowly.

''The things you told Colonel Austin last week; they were all lies - weren't they?''

''Some were. Some were not.''

''Do you want this cake - or do you want more of what I've already given you?'' Jack said in a soft voice that threatened her nonetheless. ''I still don't believe you controlled anyone's mind, but whatever you did, he was NOT the catalyst...was he?''

''Of course he wasn't,'' she finally admitted.

Hansen took the spoon and fed a tiny speck a cake to his prisoner. ''Who was? What caused this..._rampage_ of yours?''

''He did. Steve Austin may not have been the catalyst - the one who set everything in motion - but he was the cause. Because everything - start to finish - was his idea. Where do you think I got the notion and the means to power my devices?''

* * *

Steve sat on the left side of Jaime's bed, his fingers lightly tracing her motionless ones as she lay in deeply sedated slumber. With Mark gone to OSI-HQ to help supervise Jack Hansen, there was no way Steve would be leaving his wife's side. Yes, he trusted Michael with her care. He'd seen with his own eyes the effect Anna's machine had on Michael after she'd pressed that button - and the instantaneous alleviation of his agony the very second the machine was destroyed. Having spent so many years with NASA, MEWS Operations and the OSI, Steve was far better informed in scientific concepts than the average person, still he had trouble wrapping his beliefs around the concept of _mind control_. He still had to wonder if every specific act Michael, Russ and the others had committed had been ordered by one very warped soul...or if she'd merely instructed them to _destroy_...and the means (such as Michael's attack on Jaime) had come from the individual performing the act. Seeing the surgeon who'd saved Jaime's life still spending so much time carefully planning her future assessment and treatment, such violent, ugly acts didn't seem like they could possibly be in him...but what if they were? Right now, for all intents and purposes, Jaime was _paralyzed_, able to move her head but only very slightly.

Her speech didn't seem to be coming back as quickly as they'd hoped, either. She spoke only in broken sentences - not sentences at all really, but words strung together as she tried to make them understand what she was trying to say. Did she even understand what she was trying to say? Right now, it was impossible to tell what level her cognitive abilities might be at, since she was scarcely able to communicate, other than blinking, smiling and the occasional frown. (Turning her mouth downward in a frown of displeasure or a grimace of pain seemed to come with great difficulty to her too.) Smiling appeared to be easier for her - but her smiles were so very few now. Steve brought Becca to her as often as he could - and that seemed to help a great deal, although he could see the sadness in her eyes as she longed to actually _hold_ their daughter, to cradle her, sing to her and feed her the way she'd always done. Moving them to the Third Floor, where the entire family could be together in one room had never seemed further off...and yet Jaime had never needed it more. Perhaps it could be arranged somehow, with the intense supervision of the ICU moved to the room next door to Jaime's (upstairs) - or even a nurse's desk directly outside her door. Steve vowed to talk to Michael and Rudy about it, the next time they returned (which was every hour or even more often, even if just to observe their patient for a few moments without disturbing her sleep).

As for himself, his own injury, x-rays and scans had shown no reason for the fall - as sudden and _hard_ as it had been - to have caused a near-death experience. Had Ann Sommers somehow played more of a role in his injury and subsequent return than the fall and than the doctors had? He needed Mark Conrad desperately...but was completely uncertain of whether he'd even be believed. In the meantime, Steve continued to caress and tenderly massage the fingers of Jaime's left hand, trying to will any strength he could possibly give her into the smallest of bones that somehow seemed unable to move.

Steve _would_ speak to Michael and Rudy - and even to Mark. He had caused this himself, years ago in the Soviet Union, by resisting the advances of a woman who'd had warped, evil _revenge_ on her mind ever since. Except...he'd led her on, hadn't he? Steve had to acknowledge the truth. Up until the moment he'd pulled out of her arms and leaped off of that sofa, he'd allowed her to believe that something - _everything_ - was going to happen between them. His thought and his hope in doing so was that the information he'd needed - contacts, addresses and more - might begin spilling out of her _before_ they'd have headed to the bedroom (because he'd certainly had no intention of doing _that_!) But it hadn't worked; he'd failed. Of course, he'd eventually obtained all of the needed Intel through other sources but Steve knew as he looked at Jaime, lying so pale and motionless in her bed, that he had failed in every way that truly counted.

- - - - -


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

''I agree with you Steve,'' Michael told him. ''It would be excellent medicine for Jaime to have Becca in the room with her. You'd have to be there too, of course, since you haven't been released yet and I'm not comfortable with having Jaime lie there if Becca starts to cry and have her need to wait for a nurse to tend to your daughter. So yes, it would have to be the three of you. But right now, she needs a much higher level of supervision and observation than we could possibly offer on the Third Floor.''

''What about if you put the nurses' desk in the hallway, just outside her room?'' Steve suggested. ''I mean, I know it isn't portable but still, couldn't something be set up?''

''Still not enough; we need full visual contact with her at all times, considering her condition.''

''Is she still...on the _critical_ list?'' Steve asked with an aching heart.

''Unfortunately, yes.''

''Michael, Rudy...do you know if the door to the third floor hallway is a load-bearing wall?'' (Steve had just had a 'lightbulb moment'.)

''Actually, no it isn't,'' Rudy told him. ''Why?''

''Well, Jaime's obviously going to be here for quite some time or I wouldn't even suggest such an extreme reconstruction...but what if we knocked out that wall completely and replaced it with a _glass_ one, then built a temporary nurses' station along the opposite hallway wall? They'd have full sight at all times, and -''

''And Jaime could have what she needs most, to encourage her to recover,'' Michael completed for him. ''I like it. Rudy...?''

''I'm on it,'' the older doctor agreed.

''Rudy?'' Steve offered. ''Want me to...ah...take down the wall for you? Would save a lot of time over having a crew do it.''

Rudy nodded...and smiled. ''Great idea. Instead of Jaime's regular room though, knock out the wall of the one closest to the real nurses' station. Then we only have to extend it a bit; things will go a lot faster that way. Let's get it done!''

* * *

Hansen set the cake aside, on the seat of a chair where Anja could still see it but (in light of her injuries as well as her handcuffs) could not reach it. ''I read the transcript of what you told Steve,'' he informed her. ''You had that so-called device of yours before you ever went to the Soviet Union. So tell me...which lie would you prefer to stick with? Because I don't believe either one of them!''

''Yes,'' Anja acknowledged (still eying the cake), ''I did have the initial device while still in the States. I told Austin the truth about that. And I also told you the truth. When I met him overseas, he was the one who helped me figure out how to power the main device by showing me one of his - what do you call them? Power packages?''

Hansen grabbed the chain of Anja's handcuffs and jerked her roughly to her feet, causing a moan of pain to escape her swollen lips. ''If you're going to lie,'' he thundered at her, ''at least think of a good one!'' He shook her slightly before 'letting' her body hit the wall. ''What did you tell Colonel Austin last week that was a lie?''

Anja laughed. ''That was MY fun to enjoy; nothing there for your ears.''

Hansen slammed her again, a little harder this time, and then let go of the cuff chain, allowing her to sink limply to the floor. ''Want more?'' he threatened. ''_What did you lie about to Colonel Austin?_''

''Obviously we have no son together,'' Anja said softly. ''He managed to prove that - and by bringing in someone who albeit was very handsome - but was also the last person on Earth I wanted to see. And he did that on purpose, to pour salt in my wounds. So...I poured a little salt in his! End of story.''

Anja's eyes were beginning to loll around crazily as though she might pass out...so Jack moved in for 'the kill'. ''And exactly what was that 'salt', Anna?'' he asked, bending down to look directly into her face. ''_**What did you tell him that was meant only to hurt him? What was the lie...or was any of it the truth at all**__?_''

Anja was unable to say anything more. She was out cold.

* * *

For Steve, it felt good to put his fist clean through the wall (under Rudy's close supervision of course). After the initial slam of his fist, he began ripping massive portions of the wall away so quickly that the nurses (who obviously knew about bionics since they were on the Third Floor) moved to the furthest side of their station as was possible. Within minutes, Steve turned to Rudy with a grin of satisfaction.

''You can call your glass men in now,'' he announced.

* * *

It would take less than two days for the glass wall to be installed, the nurses' station extended and a second bed (and a crib) moved into the room that would now belong to the Austins. Jaime could be as closely supervised as if she was truly down in the ICU, in a much larger, more comfortable room that the people she needed most could share with her. As they had done in the past, the doctors moved the two beds as close together as they would go, with the 'inner' guardrails down so it was almost like Jaime and Steve were sleeping in the same bed. They could reach out and hold hands any time they needed to. Or rather, Steve could, anyway. He'd been positioned on Jaime's left, as the doctors felt that her flesh-and-blood arm would regain movement before her bionic limbs might. Becca's crib was on the other side of Steves bed so he could tend to her needs - and hold her toward her mother for kisses. Although only lightly sedated, Jaime did not rouse during the transfer from one bed (and floor) to the other. She was just as still and silent in the new bed as she'd been in the ICU. Steve laid down beside her (in his own bed, of course) and tenderly took her hand.

* * *

Anja was _not_ transported to National Medical - or any other hospital, for that matter. Water was splashed in her face, forcing her to regain consciousness - and since she appeared to have no broken bones, she was quite unceremoniously shackled and driven back to the NSB Building and secured in The Hole, where she could spend the rest of the evening feeling the pain (with no painkillers provided; not even an aspirin)...and knowing Hansen would be back for another crack at her in the morning.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Jaime woke to the sound of Becca crying - and panicked when she realized she couldn't get to her daughter to soothe or tend to her. Where was she? Becca sounded so _close_...but Jaime couldn't quite turn her head far enough to see. Then she felt Steve's comforting hand squeeze hers.

''I've got her, Sweetheart,'' he said softly. ''It's alright. We're in a new room now. I'll tell you all about it after -''

''Becca...get...first...'' Jaime managed to say, jumbling the words but managing to get her point across all the same.

Steve's hand pressed the call button as he scooped the baby into his arms. Becca quieted almost instantly at his touch...and at the sight of her mother. Jaime smiled. ''Hi...Little One,'' she said in a weak, raspy voice. ''I sure did...miss you.'' Jaime looked around, at least as much as her limited head movement allowed and then looked questioningly at Steve. ''ICU?'' she asked.

''You could say that,'' he answered, jiggling the infant. ''A very special ICU, just for us. We're on the Third Floor now - Home, Sweet Home, I guess you'd call it - but they've fixed it up so we could all be together.''

''I...like it,'' Jaime managed.

''You probably shouldn't try to talk too much,'' Steve told her, ''at least not 'til after the doctors get a chance -''

''A chance to say 'Hello there'!'' Rudy interrupted, grinning at the group of three in the pushed-together beds. ''How do you feel Young Lady?'' he asked Jaime, already having gotten much of the needed info from her monitors. ''Any pain?''

''Head...hurts.''

''It will, for awhile. And I'll give you something for that; the last thing any of us want is for you to lie there and suffer. But Michael's on his way up. As soon as he's had a look, we'll give you something for the pain.''

''Scale of 1 to 10?'' Michael asked, coming through the doorway. ''How bad is the pain?''

''About...25.''

''I'll be as quick as possible,'' he promised. ''Remember the drill?''

''Drill?'' (This was [i]not[/i] a good word for her, since Grant Kingsley had been known as The Drill Man for his use of the tool as an implement of [i]torture[/i].)

''The routine.'' Michael held up his pen. ''Try to keep your eyes on it without moving your head at all.'' Michael waited while Jaime's eyes focused (too slowly) and then moved the pen just a little bit from side to side. He exchanged a worried glance with Rudy (that didn't go unnoticed by Steve). It was still quite soon after her surgery, but Jaime seemed to have lost a lot of ground; too much. He reached across the bed and ran the pen down her left arm. ''Do you feel that?'' he asked softly.

''Yes.''

''Good; now wriggle your fingers for me,'' he requested. Both doctors and Steve watched closely. There was still no movement.

* * *

Anja had been unshackled and was sitting on the thin metal bench with her hands secured to a belly chain. Her appearance hadn't improved much overnight. Her lips were swollen and bruises in an array of colors covered her face and arms. She didn't look up when the door to The Hole opened and then closed again.

''It's just you and me this time,'' Jack Hansen snarled without any preamble. ''No one at an observation window to make sure I don't go too far; we're on MY playing field now. Have you had breakfast yet?'' Anja merely stared sullenly at the floor. ''Oatmeal and dry toast, perhaps?'' Jack continued. ''Would you like to hear what I had? Pancakes - a whole stack, dripping with syrup and real butter - sausages and fresh-squeezed orange juice. I'm ready to go. Are you?'' There was no answer, so he reached over and grabbed her painfully by her chin. ''I asked you a question - and when I do that, I expect an answer. Are you ready to pick up where we left off?''

Anja had just enough fire left in her that she looked up...and spit in Hansen's face.

''Oh, you'll wish you hadn't done that!'' he stormed, hitting her head against the wall and then stepping back as her eyes struggled to focus again. Before she'd entirely recovered from the blow, he went on. ''From what you said yesterday, I gather that Michael Marchetti is not your favorite person...so let's talk about him, shall we? There was one internship open and he got it, over you - didn't he? Gee...that must have hurt. Must have really gotten you going with that little anger issue of yours, didn't it? _**Didn't it**__?_''

''Go to hell...''

''So you were really, really angry and that was what started it all; wasn't it? Not anything that might - or might _not_ - have happened between you and Steve Austin in the Soviet Union!'' Hansen leaned in close and grabbed Anja's belly chain in a clearly-implied threat. ''That's it - isn't it? I just hit the nail straight on the head for you, didn't I? Dammit - _answer me!_'' He pulled hard on the chain, forcing her to feet that shook beneath her with both emotion...and anger. Hansen could vividly tell that he was getting to her. ''Michael Marchetti _stole_ what was supposed to be yours, didn't he? Poor Anna; never quite good enough, were you? And then passed over for the one thing you truly wanted!''

''You're an a-s!'' she spat, refusing to let this man bring her to tears.

''This - _evil_ - that you perpetuated. I refuse to call it 'mind control' but this _evil_...it wasn't because of Colonel Austin at all, was it? It was Marchetti all along, wasn't it?'' Hansen demanded. Anja simply glared at him so - female or not - he used her belly chain to slam her into the wall. ''Answer me!'' He slammed her again, even harder.

''Okay, alright...'' she gasped. ''You win. Please...''

Hansen pulled her by the chain and set her back down on the thin metal bench. ''So talk to me,'' he growled. ''And I mean NOW.''

''You...you're right,'' Anja admitted. ''Marchetti took...what was supposed to be mine. I was supposed to be the one working with Rudy Wells all of these years. I should've been helping him create those human robots of his! I had more schooling, better credentials...''

''Aw...just wasn't fair, was it?'' Jack agreed sarcastically. ''So you admit it then; Michael Marchetti - and _not_ Steve Austin - was the catalyst for...whatever it was you did. And you'll be speaking to our scientists about that or you'll have another go-round with me.''

''Yes; I'll tell them everything,'' Anja sighed wearily, shifting on the bench so the arm that felt broken wasn't leaning against the concrete wall. ''But you're wrong about one thing, Mr. Hansen. Austin may not have been the catalyst...but he helped me a great deal. Without him, none of what happened would've been possible...''


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Rudy laid back in his hospital bed and tried to relax. While he despised still being considered a 'patient', in truth it was better than sleeping on his office couch - and with Jaime in the condition she was in, there was no way he'd be leaving the hospital. Some would try to say that what they'd done (in creating a new 'ICU' on the Third Floor) was excessive - but these were very special patients under special circumstances...and dammit, it was still HIS hospital!

He was quite worried about Jaime. One week post-op, she should at least be able to be moving her limbs again - ALL of her limbs. But (strangely) he had faith in Michael's abilities; the young surgeon, in his mind, had done nothing purposefully wrong. This was a complication, for sure...but they would deal with it and help her through it. Perhaps a fourth surgery would prove necessary, but it was far too soon to tell.

Steve, to be honest, didn't really _need_ a hospital bed - especially not one in an ICU - but Jaime needed him there and that was as good a reason as any. Besides, for whatever reason, he had flatlined when he'd hit his head. Even though he appeared fine now, a little extra supervision was not a bad thing. Becca didn't need to be in a hospital at all...except for the fact that her parents were there and her parents' loving presence was what she needed more than anything else in this world.

Russ...Rudy wasn't sure what to think about Russ. He seemed to be making no progress whatsoever. Under Mark Conrad's orders, he was being watched _very_ closely, as it seemed that what Anna's machine had forced him to do had made him possibly suicidal. Rudy could only hope that with therapy and time, Russ might come around.

Jack Hansen...Rudy had signed off on letting him leave the locked ward - _twice_ - only with great trepidation, but it appeared it may have helped him as well as greatly helped the case against Kingsley. Perhaps now, Jack realized for himself just what Anna was capable of - and with a bit of therapy, he would quite possibly be 'himself' again.

Oscar was doing very well - even better than expected. He was still cooperating and attending daily therapy sessions with Mark, but was fully back at his job now and performing admirably. His biggest test - facing Steve and Jaime again, after being forced to try and kidnap Becca - had gone very well. Thanks to Mark's gentle prodding and the therapy sessions, things were nearly back to normal for the Director of the OSI.

There would be a meeting in the morning, between Oscar, Hansen, Mark Conrad and himself - and also Steve. Rudy wasn't sure yet just what this was about, but he'd cross that bridge when they came to it. For now, he was grateful to have a comfortable bed and a soft pillow (instead of an office couch) and he took his meds like a good patient and settled back for what he hoped was some decent sleep.

* * *

Becca had eagerly finished her late-night bottle and been lulled to sleep by her father's song...with her mother able to at least hum along. Steve had drifted off to sleep himself and Jaime had received her sedative...but after a very convincing fluttering closed of her eyes (which caused the doctors to believe she was fine for now), she was still wide awake. She was hoping to surprise Steve (and the doctors) with some sort of movement in the morning - at least, she was determined to _try_! She did as she'd once been instructed to do (when learning to use her bionics) and pictured her left hand moving 'as though it was already a done deal'. When that didn't work, Jaime resorted to concentration and intense effort...and was nearly reduced to tears when she still failed to feel even the smallest movement in the very tips of her fingers. She had never been one who allowed herself the 'luxury' of self-pity...but WHY was this happening to her?! Finally, the sedative did its work and she drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

In his office, Michael was still wide awake. He was determined to find the cause of Jaime's setback...and to put things right again for her! Was it the brain bleed she'd suffered during the operation? Very possible; likely, in fact. There was not much that could be done about that, except physical therapy and aggressive treatment to try and prevent more 'bleeds'. Since she had 'died' from these brain bleeds twice, this meant she was exceptionally vulnerable to suffering another one; Michael would make sure that did NOT happen! He was well aware that there were those who might suspect him of tampering in some way with Jaime's surgery - to try and do her harm once again - but that simply wasn't in him!

Through his own therapy sessions with Mark, he was still trying to come to terms with what he had done to Jaime - the irreparable harm he'd caused, both physically and emotionally to her. There was no way to make up for that, except to keep doing what he was doing now - his very best to ensure that she stayed as healthy as possible during her recuperation...and afterward.

* * *

In his bed, fast asleep, Steve was dreaming...about Ann Sommers. ''_Take good care of her,_'' Ann requested.

''You know I will.''

''_Yes; I know. And I know how very much you love her. You have a wonderful family, Steve. Good things are in store for all of you. Very good things..._''

* * *

END OF EPISODE 4 - to be continued in EPISODE 5


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